


The Kwami Club

by SeaJay45



Series: The Kwami Club Universe [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: (None of the mains), 1920s slang, Action, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Chicago, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Alternate Universe - Speakeasy, Angst, Ass-Kicking, Car Chases, Drug Addiction, Drugs, Drunken Shenanigans, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Gun Violence, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Identity Reveal, Illegal Activities, Italian Mafia, LadyNoir - Freeform, Marichat, Minor Character Death, Romance, adrienette - Freeform, booze, ladrien, police raids, silent film
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-07-21 19:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7401190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaJay45/pseuds/SeaJay45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chicago, 1927</p><p>The stock markets are soaring, women are voting, movies are talking, music is swinging, and prohibition has turned out to be wildly unsuccessful. In the midst of it all, the wonderfully dazzling and daring culture of the speakeasy has bloomed. But, in the dark corners of these secret smokey rooms another creature has come into its own - organized crime. Adrien Agreste, darling of the silent silver screen, finds himself thrust into this thriving underworld after meeting the mysterious Ladybug, owner of the illustrious Kwami Club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to my little slice of the Miraculous fandom! I've been dying to write this little AU for a few months now and finally find myself with the time to do so. I know we already have several bar/club miraculous AUs floating around out there, but this fandom was sorely in need of a speakeasy one.
> 
> I mean, come on, they set the _bar_ for drinking establishments after all. 
> 
> *Is hit with a shoe*
> 
>  
> 
> ...enjoy!

“Remind me again why I have to be here?” Nino blew into his glove covered hands and shuffled his feet. His eyes darted to the side when he thought he’d spied a shadow lurking in his peripherals. 

They were standing on the dim corner of two streets nestled in a part of town Nino never wanted to be thoroughly familiar with. The houses were run down and shabby or boarded up completely. Figures were huddled into the shadows, obscuring their faces from recognition. The night was just settling in and the temperature had already dropped well below his preferred range of numbers. His hand jumped up to nestle his cabbie cap further down on his head. 

“Because I need a big strong man for protection, remember?” Alya said, glancing up at him and batting her eyes from beneath her round glasses. 

Nino rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, “oh please, let’s be honest with ourselves here. If anything happens  _ you’ll  _ be the one protecting  _ me _ .” 

She put her hands on her hips and grinned, “you got that right, doll.” 

“Isn’t this guy supposed to be here already?” Nino glanced at his watch and tapped its face. 

“Geez, what is your beef?” She smoothed down the front of her tweed jacket and couldn’t help but give a grin at the matching pair of tweed trousers. By god she loved wearing trousers. Too bad her mama would keel over if she saw her now. It was supposed to be her good for nothing little brother and one of his dumb friends standing on this corner in the cold, but they’d gotten into the stocks  _ again _ and would be useless for the night. 

“What’s my beef? What’s my beef?!” Now his hands were back up out of his pockets and in the air. “Alya, I’m just a piano player, I have no business being out here and neither do you for that matter.” 

The look Alya fired at him could have singed the hair off of his upraised arms if they hadn’t been covered by his jacket. “Excuse you?” she ground out. “This is  _ my  _ family business, I have every business being here to make sure it keeps running. As for  _ you _ ,” she jabbed a finger into his chest and his arms instantly deflated, “you bet your ass you want to be here to make sure we get this giggle juice or our little gin mill will dry up and you’ll find your piano playing ass falling on hard times.” 

Nino grimaced and put up his hands in defense. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry Alya, I’m sorry. I know this is important and I want to help. This place just gives me the heebie-jeebies okay?” He swallowed as the waves of irritation coming off of her didn’t didn’t subside, even when she turned away from him. God, he had to be seven shades of stupid to have said anything to her at all.

The silence that settled between them was thick.  Nino prayed it would just completely envelope him and drag him under to his sweet, sweet death. But his prayers would go unanswered.

A little way up the street he heard a sputtering hacking that split the heavy silence down the middle. Both loiters jumped and looked in the direction of the noise. 

A hunched figure was dragging itself along the brick wall towards them. The figure walked with a heavy limp. Nino was immediately on high alert. Alarms and buzzers ringing in his head. Alya, however, stepped forwards in all her unfathomable bravery. “Hello?” 

The figure paused and looked up. “A-Alya?” The voice was weak and torn and distinctly male. 

“Oh lord, James? Is that you?!” Alya raced forward before Nino could utter a word of opposition. She met the figure half way and Nino heard her gasp. She looked back at him, “Don’t just stand there, help me! He’s hurt really bad!” 

At the desperation in her voice, Nino shed all his hesitancy and rushed to help her with the heavy man. With one of them on each side, they managed to get him into the light. He was badly beaten, if Alya hadn’t recognized his voice Nino doubted she would have been able to recognize him at all. Both eyes were swollen shut, his nose was definitely broken and his lips were bleeding profusely, blood dripping down his chin. The way he was holding himself spoke volumes of the other injuries his torn and dirty clothes were hiding. 

Alya looked at Nino, her eyes were filled with a potent concoction of anger and fear. “We have to get him to farm.” 

Nino’s lips settled into a grim line. “Right. Let’s get out of here.” 

 

>> = <<

 

“...and in news from the silver screen America’s favorite star, Adrien Agreste, will premiere his latest film,  _ Bad Luck, Jack _ , tonight in Chicago’s very own prestigious Uptown Theatre. The screen darling and his father, Gabriel Agreste, head of Papillion Producti--” 

Marinette Dupain-Cheng scrambled forwards to turn off the radio with such speed that she somehow managed to knock the whole thing off of its shelf. It crashed to the ground with sickening crack and Marinette cringed. She didn’t even want to look at the damage, she knew it would be a bloodbath. She glanced over her shoulder at the swinging door that led to the back of the bakery and up to her parent’s room, just waiting for her mother to come rushing down. When the door remained closed Marinette sighed and dropped to her knees behind the display that held stacks of freshly baked goods. She began to pick up the pieces of splintered wood and metal parts that had once been her prized radio. Stupidly, she wanted to cry over it but forbid herself to return to the ways of a child. She gathered all the pieces into her pink and white striped apron and stood up as carefully as she could. With a heavy heart, she deposited the pieces onto the counter in front of her, looking at them forlornly. She tried her hardest not to think of the heavy price tag on the radio and the heap of alterations she had completed to afford it. 

The tinkling of bells finally pulled her from her reverie and she looked up to see a woman that looked very much like her best friend dressed in a very rumpled men’s suit. “Marinette!!” 

Yep, that was definitely her best friend dressed like a man. “Alya?! What in the world--” it was then that her eyes zeroed in on the blood stains that covered the front of her friend’s clothes. Marinette’s eyes widened in full panic, she glanced out the window at the busy street basked in sunlight and then back at her best friend. “Upstairs. Quickly.” She practically hauled her best friend around the counter and shoved her into the back, the radio pieces long forgotten. 

After a quick shout to her mother that she needed her to man the storefront for a little bit, Marinette bustled Alya up into the attic which also served as her room. The area was tight and simple. A small metal framed bed was shoved under the back window and was covered with a dusty pink and white quilt. On the wall next to the door stood a shabby white dressing table with a cracked mirror hanging above it. On the table sat a dented metal bowl and a chipped porcelain pitcher. Across the room from her bed was a square wooden table with an old black Singer sewing machine on top. A pile of fabric sat on the floor around the table and over the chair in front of it. Two windows framed the table, one was painted neatly with the words  _ ‘Alterations by Marinette.’  _

Marinette steered her friend directly to the bed and sat her down. “Tell me.” She said before going to the pitcher and bowl and fishing out a clean cloth from the cabinet below. 

“I...I went to go get the shipment last night. Jean was...he was being Jean of course, so I went instead.”

“What?! Alya! What were you thinking? All alone?!” Marinette turned to look back at her, gripping the cloth tightly in her hands. 

“No, no, of course not, Mari. I took Nino.” 

Marinette threw her hands up in the air, “as if that’s any better! Why didn’t you go get Alix and Kim?” 

Alya shook her head, “come on, you know they had their hands full down at the club last night. Neither of us was there. ” 

“Well, I’m sure they did considering you weren’t there like you were supposed to be.” She poured water into the bowl from the pitcher and then dunked the cloth in with a bit too much force. 

“Mari, it’s my family. There was no one else. I wanted to take care of it.” 

Marinette sighed and closed her eyes willing herself to calm down. The sight of blood all over her best friend had immediately set every single nerve in her body on fire. “Just tell me...tell me that’s not your blood...or Nino’s.” 

“It’s not our blood.” 

She felt her shoulders relax considerably, though there was still a painful knot forming in her back. “Okay,” she wrung the cloth out and turned to come sit on the bed next to Alya, “what happened then?” 

As Marinette cleaned the blood off of her friend’s exhausted face the best she could, Alya told her everything that happened. “So we took him back to the farm. He told us that he was jumped by a couple of guys when he stopped at a cross street. They yanked him out of his car, beat him to a withering pulp and took off with the shipment.” Alya looked down. “I’m sorry, Marinette. We lost it all.” 

Placing the now pink cloth to the side, Marinette took Alya’s hands into hers and squeezed them gently. “Hey, stop that. Stop right now because that is not what is important here.” She ducked her head to meet Alya’s eyes. “To hell with the hooch. I’m much more concerned about James and your family. That’s what matters right now. How is James? What can I do?” 

Alya shook her head, “it’s pretty bad, but you know my mama, she’s a miracle worker. She seemed pretty confident that he would make a full recovery, but…” she paused, her eyes stinging, “oh, Mari, seeing him like that it was just so damn scary. I thought he was already past help. I thought he was already as good as dead.” Hot tears started to flow down her cheeks. 

Marinette wasted no time in gathering Alya into her arms and hugging her tightly, “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” The weight in Marinette’s chest crushed her heart almost completely. James had been a target because he was delivering to  _ her _ club. She knew it without a doubt. His injuries and his pain, they were all on her shoulders. 

The two women sat holding each other for several long moments until Alya could get her breath back under control. “It was the Moretti’s. I know it.” She said finally. 

Marinette tightened her arms around Alya at the name. “I know. We’ll figure something out. They won’t get away with this. I promise.” Alya merely nodded in response. 

Pulling away, Marinette got up from the bed, “now let’s get you cleaned up, I don’t think it’s a great idea for you to be walking around in broad daylight like that. You’ll cause a rash of fainting spells amongst the elderly. Not that you don’t look absolutely dashing in trousers.” She walked to her wardrobe in search of a dress for Alya to borrow. 

 

>> = <<

 

Adrien Agreste never understood the appeal of watching one’s own face plastered across a massive screen with 4,000 other people for two hours, but his father and the rest of the film industry acted like it was the most fantastic thing in the world. Adrien glanced down at his watch only to have it tell him he still had the better part of an hour before he was free. He barely managed to suppress his groan. Instead, he decided to fidget with his clothing for what must have been the billionth time in the past hour. This time, he chose to twist his cufflinks back and forth and back and forth and--

A hand with long slender fingers and well-manicured nails clasped over his firmly. He slowly glanced up to meet the warning stare of his father. Adrien swallowed and removed his hand. A shudder ran down his spine. He forced his eyes back to the screen. Eventually, they dipped just below where he could barely make out the tops of the orchestras' heads. He wished he could be down there sitting at the piano bench with Nino. Maybe playing a duet, maybe even something jazzy to really horrify his father. Anything to escape all the eyes on him. 

You’d think after spending nearly his entire life in the spotlight Adrien would have grown used to it, but that wasn’t the case in the slightest. If anything he had become more uneasy with all the attention as he grew older. It wasn’t so much that he had an issue with people paying attention to him, people recognizing him or asking for autographs and interviews all the time, though those things weren’t particularly pleasant. It was that the person they wanted photos of, the person they wanted to hear from, the person whose signature they desired so badly, didn’t exist. Adrien Agreste, hot shot film star of the silver screen, was just as much an invented character as the ones he portrayed. He was a liar. And the thing that scared him the most is that he had even managed to lie to himself.

At the age of twenty-five, he finally realized he had no clue who Adrien really was. What was Adrien’s favorite food? What was his favorite kind of music? Was he a cigar smoker? What were his dreams? Did he truly love playing the piano? What was his favorite color? He had answers for each of these questions of course, but they were the groomed ones. The ones invented by his father or even sometimes by himself to please his father. And it terrified him how hard it was to separate the inventions from the truths. 

He started to sweat under his collar. 

Forcing himself out of yet another downward spiral Adrien zeroed in on the music once more. He separated the various hums and trills of the instruments until he found Nino’s piano. He badly wanted to close his eyes and let the notes take him, but he knew he’d be a goner if his father turned to find him like that, so instead he focused his eyes on the bobbing of the violins' bows for the rest of the film. 

It was the sudden roar of applause that shocked him back to the now. Glancing up he saw the end card flickering on the screen in black and white. The final notes of the music reverberated under the applause. All around him people were climbing to their feet and turning towards him. 

“Stand up.” It was a miracle he heard his father’s low hiss at all. Adrien got to his feet in his practiced graceful way, the trademark smile eased onto his face and he waved back at the crowd. 

As they exited through the main doors of dazzling Uptown Theatre, they were accosted by a predictable wave of reporters and paparazzi. 

“Mr. Agreste, Adrien! Give us a smile!” 

“Adrien, would you consider this your best film yet?!” 

“Mr. Agreste, what did you think of your son’s performance?!” 

“Adrien, over here!” 

“Adrien, what was your favorite part of the film?!

Gabriel Agreste paused just under the massive overhang of the theater, dripping with its buzzing and winking electric lights. He held up his hands with a small smile, “please, please everyone. My son and I would love to answer some questions, but let’s take it one at a time, shall we?”  Hands shot up from the crowd of cameras and microphones in front of them. 

“Let’s start over here,” Gabriel gestured to a man in a fedora towards the front holding a microphone. 

“Adrien, John Mitchell with KYW radio, what was it like working with the great Lillian Gish?” 

The scripted answer rolled off Adrien’s tongue like he’d been asked his name, “Lillian was fantastic to work with, I think we learned a lot from each other. She truly is an astounding actress. She was sorely missed tonight and I wish her a fast recovery from her cold.” A plethora of follow up questions filled the air, but Gabriel chose another reporter. 

“Samuel Rossi, WGN radio for the Chicago Tribune, Mr. Agreste, what is next on the list for Papillon Productions?” Adrien instantly knew this man was a plant by his father. He would be asking just the right questions tonight and next week Adrien was sure he’d be giving him an exclusive interview. 

“Well, Mr. Rossi, I’m not a huge fan of showing my hand before the end of the game.” Gabriel gave a confident smirk. Questions were fired at him from all over, but Rossi’s voice was the most persistent and won out.

“You don’t want to comment on the release of  _ The Jazz Singer _ ? The buzz is that these ‘talkies’ are the next big thing for film!” 

Gabriel’s expression grew even more confident. “I think that  _ The Jazz Singer  _ was an absolute wonder. I congratulate Warner Brother’s Productions on their success and I think these ‘talkies’ are indeed the next step forward in film. And as you know, we at Papillon Productions do not like being left behind and neither does my son. Don’t you all think he would sound fantastic on the silver screen?” 

The uproar that followed was the loudest yet. A mask slammed down on Adrien’s face, his smile became brittle. 

“I’m sorry everyone,” Gabriel raised his hands, “but that’s all we have time for tonight, I’m afraid we must take our leave.” The crowd parted even as questions continued to be asked. Flashbulbs lit their way to the car. In his pockets, Adrien’s hands were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. 

The inside, the car was silent. Adrien kept his hardened gaze focused on the scrolling scenery outside his window. His posture was stiff and ridged. 

“You are quiet.” His father said from beside him.

Adrien couldn’t stop the words that followed. “Apologies father, I was just imagining how nice it would be to make a decision about my own life for once.” His tone was unmistakably combative. Inwardly he cringed, but his posture didn’t change in the slightest. 

“Excuse me?” Gabriel’s tone was full of warnings that Adrien knew he should heed. But it was like his mouth suddenly had an agenda all its own. 

“You didn’t even consult me. Not at all.” Adrien finally turned to look at his father. “You  _ never  _ consult me.” 

Gabriel’s eyebrows arched up, “Adrien, where is this coming from?” 

If it was possible, Adrien’s hackles rose even further, “Where is this…where is this coming from?!” He sputtered. “I’m twenty-five years old and I don’t think we’ve ever had a single discussion about  _ my  _ career. About  _ my  _ life!” The car pulled to a stop in front of the grand Agreste house. Gabriel stared at his son as if he’d gone slightly mad. This made Adrien’s very blood burn in his veins. Adrien wrenched open the door of the car before their driver could even get out from behind the wheel and started to storm towards the tall wrought iron gate. That’s when he heard the whistle. He’d know that whistle anywhere. 

He turned to look a few yards down the street to see an older car sitting alongside the sidewalk. Out of the front seat climbed his best friend and in this case, his savior, Nino. 

“Hey, Mac, I came to congratulate you on another whopping success!” 

Adrien grinned and jogged down the street to meet his friend, “well thank you very much and congrats to you too. The music was fantastic as usual, but you didn’t have to come all the way here.” 

“Well, actually,” Nino leaned against the hood of his car, crossing his arms, “I was wondering if maybe you’d be up for a little celebrating.” 

Adrien blinked, his eyebrows rising, “celebrating?” 

“Yeah, just...ah..” Nino rubbed the back of his head, “...some dinner, with some people from the crew. Nothing crazy.” 

“Adrien!” Gabriel was walking with quick steps towards the two standing on the street. “What in the world are you doing?” 

It was then, standing on his well-to-do street in front of his ritzy house with his father demanding things from him as usual, that Adrien Agreste realized something. 

If he wanted to make decisions for himself, he was just going to have to up and do it. 

Adrien turned to his father, his hands slipped into the pockets of his black slacks. “I’m going to go out and celebrate yet another _monumental_ success with my best friend.” 

His father stopped short and his face hardened, “you absolutely are not.” 

Adrien swallowed. Little tendrils of familiar anxiety unfurled under his skin, but he somehow managed to hold his voice steady. “Yes. I am.” With that he turned to Nino, who looked decidedly more uncomfortable than he had at the start of the conversation, and said, “shall we then?” 

Nino only took a second to glance at Gabriel Agreste and then at his best friend’s determined look before he nodded, “yeah, let’s scram.” He pushed off the hood of his car and made quick work of climbing back behind the wheel. Adrien went to open the passenger side door. 

“Adrien!” Gabriel warned. 

Pausing behind the open door Adrien looked back at the red-faced man. “Goodnight, Father.” He climbed into the car and shut the door behind him. The car sputtered to life and Nino made a u-turn before disappearing around the block. 

For a long time after the tail lights disappeared, Gabriel Agreste gazed down the darkened street with narrowed eyes. 

 

The two men drove in silence for a couple of blocks, before a low bubble of chuckles started from the passenger side of the car. Nino looked over at Adrien who was looking out the window with the back of his hand pressed to his lips. His shoulders were shaking. 

Nino raised an eyebrow, “have you finally lost it, pal?” 

This only caused Adrien to burst out in a full blown case of the laughs. He doubled over, practically hysterical. Nino gave him a wary look for a few moments before he felt himself being pulled under as well. Soon they were both roaring with laughter, Nino trying to keep his focus on the road in front of him. 

“I must be out of my mind! I can’t believe I just did that!” Adrien said through his laughter. “Did you see his face? Oh my god, Nino, he might actually kill me. I don’t think I can ever go back!” 

Nino broke out into a fresh new wave of laughter. When he finally got himself back into some semblance of control he was wiping tears from his eyes. “Adrien Agreste, I have never been more proud of you than I am now.”

Adrien shook his head, wiping away his own tears, “I’m exhilarated and terrified all at once.” He turned to Nino as they made another turn. They were now driving through the flashy and brightly lit downtown of Chicago. “So, where is everyone meeting up? What’s the restaurant called?” 

Nino glanced at him briefly and a smirk sparked up on his face, “we’re not going to a restaurant.” 

“What, but you said…” Adrien blinked and cocked his head to the side. 

“Adrien, my boy, I said we’re going to celebrate and a measly dinner is no way to celebrate. It’s high time you know your onions!” They pulled off the main drag and into some of the less ritzy parts of downtown. 

“Nino, what are you up to?” Adrien was suddenly very suspicious and wary. 

“All in good time,” Nino reached over and patted his shoulder, “all in good time.” 

It wasn’t much longer before Nino pulled into a parking spot amongst a line of other cars. The street they were on was residential, quiet and looked safe enough. It definitely wasn’t as swanky as Adrien’s neighborhood, but he found he liked the way all the homes were shoved neatly together, no fences binding them into their own little patches of land. 

Nino turned off the engine and reached into the back seat. He pulled a bag to the front and reached into it, “you’re going to need one of these.”  He pulled out two masks, ornately decorated with sequins and sparkling crystals. Nino handed one of the masks to Adrien, it was all black and edged with shiny black crystals. It would cover the area around his eyes and halfway down his cheeks. Just under the eyes were lines of silver sequins creating the image of whiskers. Adrien looked up at Nino with a very incredulous look. 

Nino was already slipping on his own mask. It covered the eyes and part of the cheeks like the black one, except his was covered in yellow and green sequins. He grinned at Adrien, “it’s the house rules. Everyone wears a mask. Oh!” He dug into the bag again, this time pulling out a set of matching cat ears that sat on top of a headband. 

The cat ears were lined with the same silver sequins used for the whiskers. “You’ll need these to complete the look.” Adrien couldn’t even begin to imagine just what he’d gotten himself into, but as he stared at the two costume pieces in his hands he felt excitement bubble up in his chest. He looked at Nino and grinned, “it’s a good thing I  _ purr-fer _ cats.”  

Nino rolled his eyes, “why do you think I chose that one for you? Come on cat boy, let’s not waste any more time.” Nino climbed out the car and after securing the mask and ears on his head Adrien followed suit. He glanced into the side mirrors of the car and quickly decided he very much loved his new look. 

He followed Nino down the quiet street and then turned into a small alley. Against one wall leaned a hulking figure. Next to him, on the ground, was a wooden cellar door. Adrien couldn’t help the goosebumps that rose on his arms. He trusted Nino completely, but this was just a little bit beyond his extremely sheltered upbringing. 

“Good evening, Cupid!” Nino called cheerfully to the very tall and broad man, who was now pushing off the wall. This man also had a mask on, his was sharp at the corners and covered in red silk. Two small, black hearts sat on either side of the mask. 

Cupid frowned at Nino, “nice of you show up, Bubbles.” Adrien’s eyebrows rose.

Nino’s shoulders twitched, “I told you guys to drop that.” 

“I dunno, Fox seems to think it’s hilarious. And I have to agree.” Nino grumbled. Cupid jerked his chin at Adrien, “who’s this?” 

“A friend who is sorely in need of a good time.” He clapped Adrien on the back. 

Cupid smirked, “well, little cat, you’ve come the right place.” He reached down and pulled up the wooden door revealing a set of stairs descending down. “Be my guest.” 

With the cellar door now open Adrien thought he could hear a faint thrum of...music? Voices? He peered into the darkness, his curiosity overflowing. 

“Come on,” Nino started down the stairs waving at Adrien to follow. Adrien hesitated only a moment before flowing his friend. He jumped when the cellar door banged shut above him. As they descended down the stairs the beat of the music grew louder. The stairs were lit by two electric lights below. The lights sat on either side of an old wooden door and next to the door was a small woman who sat on a stool. Her hair was styled close to her head and Adrien was shocked to find it was completely dyed a bright shade of pink. He wasn’t even aware such a thing was possible. He wondered how she managed to walk around in the streets without everyone gawking at her, very much like he was probably doing right now. 

As if reading his mind, the woman settled her bored stare on him. “It’s a wig, kitten.” She wore a mask too, but her’s was shaped a bit differently. The top of her mask rose above her hairline, peaking in two rounded points. It was shaped almost like a bow. The top of the mask was covered in lime green sequins that faded gradually down the mask into a muted red tone. To further Adrien’s surprise she wore a black pair of men’s plus-four knickers that hit her at the calf and a crisp white men’s shirt completed with a green tie. “What’s the password, Bubbles?” 

Nino clasped a hand over his eyes, “not you too, Watch!” He removed his hand and groaned, “and are you kidding me, password? Let us in, I’m already late.” 

The woman stood up off the stool, “You’re bringing in a newbie. Password or beat it.” 

Nino sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Horseshoe.” 

“Thanks a bunch, Bubbles. And make sure your pet here doesn’t get in a tangle.” She opened the door and suddenly the small space filled with lively music, excited voices and the distinct smell of tobacco, sweat, and booze. 

Watch grinned at Adrien, “Welcome to the Kwami Club, kitten.” 

Adrien followed Nino through the doorway and into the room beyond. The sight left him with no words and widened eyes. 

The room they entered took up at least the entire basement of the building it sat under. The ceiling above him was slightly vaulted, lending itself to the acoustics of the room. Rounded pillars around the room held the ceiling in its place and three extravagant chandeliers dripped from the center casting light all around. The floor was paved in a diamond shaped wooden inlay that was shined to a fine finish. The walls were painted a deep red and topped with an ornate crown molding that matched the darker wood of the floor. Running down almost the entire length of the wall to Adrien’s right was a bar. Patrons filled the stools in front of the dark mahogany counter. The entire wall behind the bar was covered in mirrors. A long shelf held a wide assortment of different colored and different shaped bottles. Each, Adrien knew, would be filled to the brim with illegal liquid. 

All around the room tables sat squeezed up against one another, each holding its own candle-lit lamp. Almost every chair was filled with a body and everybody wore a mask, they ranged from the simple to the outrageous. On the opposite side of the room from the bar sat a row of darkened booths, Adrien could tell that people sat huddled in them, but he couldn’t make out any distinguishing features and he had a distinct feeling that was on purpose. 

On the far back wall, sat a raised stage lined with thick black curtains that were currently drawn back and held up with deep red sashes. On the Stage sat a sleek, black, upright piano whose bench was currently empty. Next to the piano a group of men were playing their hearts out on a saxophone, a cello, a violin and a trumpet. The beat was alive with rhythm and it breathed life onto the dance floor in front of the stage. There, even more masked people danced with quick feet and lively kicks. The girls wore feathers in their hair, long pearl necklaces, and shorter skirts. Tassels flew up to reveal daring swaths of leg.

“What do you think?” Nino looked back at him with expectation. 

Adrien’s eyes bounced around the room once again, “it’s...wow...I’ve never...it’s amazing, Nino.” He felt a smile slide it’s way onto his face and right then and there Adrien decided he had made the right decision to come along.

Nino grinned, “It’s not too shabby. Come on, I want to introduce you to some friends of mine.” He waved Adrien to follow him as they squeezed around people and tables on their way to the bar. 

Miraculously they were able to find themselves two bar stools at the end near the stage. The bar was worked by two busy bartenders. One was a tall and slim man with a shock red hair and quiet blue eyes. He wore an X-shaped mask decorated with purple sequins and crystals of every shade. He was wearing a matching purple waistcoat with a crisp white collared shirt underneath. His pants were perfectly pressed pinstripe. The other was a woman of medium stature and perfect curves. Her hair was warm brown and cropped close to her head with perfectly done curls. Settled on her face was a beautiful mask. It was shaped like a fox, with a long elegant nose sticking out from the middle. The eyes were rimmed in black crystals. The top half was orange satin and the bottom was white sequins and her nose was tipped with more black crystals. Perched on top of her hair was an adorable matching set of fox ears. She wore an all black shift dress. Black beading wove and curled around her in intricate designs that ended with the dress hemline at mid thigh. From there a thin curtain of tassels hung to her knees flashing a fantastic amount of leg with every movement. 

“Hey!” Nino called, “A little service down here would be nice!” 

Fox immediately whipped her head around. A spicy retort poised on her lips and eyes fiery until a look of recognition passed over her face, cooling the flames in her eyes considerably. She cocked her hip and crossed her arms, “Sorry toots, we don’t serve drugstore cowboys here!” She called back.

Nino barked a laugh, “you’re a right bearcat, you know that!” 

Fox fluffed her curls with a shrug. “Ain’t that the truth.” She grinned and made her way down to them. “Aren’t you a bit late, Bubbles? The band has been looking positively forlorn without you.” 

“Ugh, please with the Bubbles thing already!” He pouted. Adrien couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Yeah, yeah, pipe down and introduce me to your friend here.” Fox leaned towards Adrien, resting her chin on her hands. Adrien swallowed. 

Nino sat up straight looking between the two, “hey, hey now, don’t start making designs on him.” He slung an arm around Adrien, “he’s an innocent.” Adrien sputtered and red splashed across his cheeks.

“Even more interesting.” Fox batted her eyelashes at him and winked. “What’s your name, kitty cat?” 

Nino passed a hand over his eyes with a sigh. “This is--” 

“Chat Noir!” Adrien blurted out, his French bursting onto his tongue before anything else. He just thanked god it wasn’t the mandarin...that probably wouldn’t have sounded as smooth.

Chat Noir.

Adrien felt himself relax slightly. 

He liked it. 

Fox smirked, “oh, French, aren’t you just an egg.” She lifted her chin off her hands and stuck out one hand, “well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Noir.”

Gaining confidence and ease from his newly spun identity, Adrien took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “The pleasure is mine, I’m sure, Ms. Fox.” 

Fox’s eyes widened as Adrien released her hand. Then she laughed, “Oh, Bubbles, you’re so lucky smooth moves like that don’t give me the razzle.” 

Nino was gawking at Adrien. And Adrien found himself grinning back. 

Yes. 

He could settle into this Chat Noir role easily. It was just like acting, but  _ he  _ got to decide who the character was. 

Nino finally snorted and with a puff of laughter, clapped Adrien on the back. “Alright, let’s get you a drink!” 

Adrien hesitated. Of course, he knew that even being here was illegal. He knew if this place was raided right now his father would probably disown him. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had alcohol before, he had on numerous occasions. However, those occasions had always been at his father’s highly private parties that took place at his private residence under the guard of his family’s name. This was a different matter entirely. But, hadn’t Adrien made a decision when he left with Nino? _He_ was making the decisions from now on. From now on he would do what Adrien wanted. So, what did Adrien want right now? What did Chat Noir want? 

Adrien grinned. 

Chat Noir wanted a drink. 

“I’ll have a Sidecar, please.” He said. 

“Attaboy!” Nino was all smiles. “I’ll take my usual, Doll.” 

Fox frowned at Nino’s pet name, “spit and gin it is then.” She left them to grab the appropriate bottles. 

Nino leaned back, “she carries a heavy torch for me.” 

Adrien raised his eyebrows, “if you say so,  _ Bubbles. _ ” 

“Not you too!” Nino frowned. 

“I simply  _ have _ to know the story behind that little pet name.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Come on, Bubbles.” 

“Stop.” 

“There is no way I will let this go. Might as well cough it up.” 

“Oh, dry up!” 

“I will find out one way or another.” 

“I’d be more than happy to tell you!” Fox came back, setting both their drinks down before them. 

Nino narrowed his eyes at her, “don’t you dare do it.” 

She crossed her arms, “or you’ll what?” 

He huffed and frowned, “that’s it, I’m not leaving you two alone at all tonight.” 

“Well, well, look who decided to grace us with his presence this evening.” A new voice came from behind the two men. Adrien watched as his friend’s face grew pale and a triumphant look settle on Fox’s face. At the same time, both men turned to look at the woman standing behind them, one with dread and the other with curiosity. 

She had her hands on her hips and one delicate black eyebrow arched in question. Her deep blue eyes spelled out the word U-N-A-M-U-S-E-D quite clearly. She was petite, but the aura that surrounded her made her seem all but that. Like the Fox’s, her sleek black hair was styled short with elegant waves flush against her forehead. Her mask covered her eyes and half of her cheeks but didn’t manage to completely cover the freckles that dotted across her cheeks and nose. The mask was red silk, with large black sequined spots. It was edged in black crystals. Wrapped around her hair was red headpiece embroidered with a delicate criss-cross of black and red beads. Three red feathers stuck out from the side and pointed straight into the air. She wore a dress covered with more delicate and intricate embroidery of the same black and red beads. The dress ended mid thigh and was completed with an asymmetrical skirt of black tassels. Every movement of the dress shimmered in the light. Her small lips were painted a bright red. 

“Just the lady we’ve been waiting for!” Nino exclaimed a bit too cheerfully. 

She was not phased. “Bubbles, explain to me how you managed to come in over an hour late and instead of seeing you scramble as quick as you can up onto that stage, I find you sitting here making eyes at Fox.  _ Again. _ ” 

Nino put up his hands in defense, “Hey, I’ll have you know I had an extremely good reason for being late.” 

“Oh really?” She asked, eyebrow arching higher. 

“Yes!” Nino jumped out of his seat and clapped a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “I was busy picking up this dashing fellow in great need of a good time. And I thought to myself, well gosh, what’s the best little joint this side of the Mississippi? Of course, the one, the only Kwami Club run by two of the smartest and most beautiful gals you’ll ever lay your eyes on. So, I just had to bring him you see?” Nino gave Adrien a little push, forcing him to his feet. “Ladybug, meet my best pal, Chat Noir. Chat Noir, the lovely Ladybug. Oh gee look at that, I do believe Tom is calling me over to the stage. Gotta go!” And then he was gone, his pile of rushed words filling the void he left, along with a blinking Ladybug, an unimpressed Fox, and a wide-eyed Adrien. 

There was only a beat of silence before Adrien regained his composure and in one movement swept Ladybug’s hand into his and leaned forwards in a graceful bow. He passed his lips ever so briefly across her knuckles and glanced up at her from beneath his lashes. “It’s a great pleasure, Ms. Ladybug.” He let go of her hand and straightened. 

Ladybug’s eyes widened and he thought he glimpsed a bit of color bloom across her cheeks. However, the whole expression was quickly stashed away underneath a kind and confident smile. “Welcome to the Kwami Club, Chat Noir. I hope you’ll enjoy yourself here.” 

Adrien smiled, “I assure you, I am enjoying myself very much.” Up on the stage, Nino had finally settled behind the piano and started up a lively jazz tune. 

“Would you like to have a seat?” Adrien motioned to Nino’s empty chair. 

“Oh, actually I--” 

“Yes! She would.” Fox jumped on top of her sentence. “Come on Ladybug, why don’t you take a short break. Get to know our new friend here and keep me company.” 

Ladybug raised an eyebrow, “oh, I think you have plenty company,” she motioned to the row of customers sat at the bar. “But, I suppose having a bit of a sit won’t hurt anything.” And she slid onto the abandoned chair. Adrien waited until she was fully seated before sitting back down himself. Fox disappeared down the bar to take care of a thirsty customer. 

“Both of you own this place then?” He asked. 

She smiled and nodded, “yes, Fox and I own and run it.” 

“That’s amazing!” And Adrien was truly amazed. He wondered what it was like to own something. To be completely in charge of an entire space, a business. “Who designed the decor? It’s really fantastic.” 

Ladybug smiled and the color returned to her cheeks somewhat, “well, Fox and I--” 

“Uh, uh, uh,” Fox had returned to their portion of the bar, “don’t you dare.” She looked at Adrien while she shook a tumbler, “she designed everything. Down to the seat cushions. She also designed and made all of the masks that the staff wear.” 

Adrien turned to look at her, “really?” He was thoroughly impressed. 

Her blush only deepened, “yes, I did.”

“Well, they’re all fantastic.” 

She smiled at him, “thank you.” 

“Hey, actually…” Fox was now leaning over the bar and peering closely at Adrien’s face. “Ladybug...isn’t this cat mask one of yours too?” 

Adrien’s eyes widened. “W-What?” 

Ladybug leaned forwards now and squinted a bit before her eyes popped wide again. “Oh my gosh, it is! Bubbles swiped my black cat mask!” 

“Oh goodness, oh I’m so sorry, he just handed it to me, here I’ll give it back--” Adrien, embarrassed and flustered started to lift the mask up only to have Ladybug clasp her hands around his, pushing the mask back down before he could lift it off of his nose. 

“No, no, don’t worry about it!” She laughed, “The masks are always up for grabs for the staff to use. I don’t mind you wearing it. It is club policy after all.” She smiled, “besides, I think it suits you perfectly.” 

Adrien found his words weren’t working properly. Her hands were warm, gentle, but also rough. He could feel the calluses on her fingertips. They were working hands. Hands that had created things. Beautiful things. All too soon they were gone and he found his words again. “Well, thank you, I’m honored.” 

She tilted her head and smiled, “you’re welcome. No one has ever worn my cat mask. It’s always been one of my favorites. I love seeing it action!” 

Adrien smiled back. Damn, she was adorable. “By the way, Ni- er...I mean, Bubbles, never quite explained the whole mask thing to me. Is it just for fun or is there more to it?” 

“It’s both actually,” Ladybug answered. Fox handed Ladybug a gin martini with a perfectly curled twist of lemon peel, she thanked her friend and took a sip. “When Fox and I decided we wanted to join the speakeasy game we knew we needed to do something different. Considering speakeasies by nature are secretive and well, illegal, we thought a masquerade theme might be appealing to those with…” she paused trying to find the word, her fingers twirling the yellow curl in her drink, “sensitive...social standings.”

“A smart idea.” Adrien agreed. He was well aware of how much people’s reputations mattered, his father made sure it was drilled into his skull from birth. Many of his acquaintances from the industry still enjoyed their drinks on the regular, but mostly at private parties where their homes could protect them from the embarrassment of being caught in a raid. 

Ladybug nodded, “it was a hit from the start, so we made it policy that masks must stay on at all times, the nicknames naturally followed. It’s extremely rare to see someone introduce themselves by their real name here. I think it also makes it easier for some because we’re a black-and-tan club.” 

“Black-and-tan?” Adrien blinked and took a sip of his drink enjoying the warmth easing down into his stomach. 

She gave him an amused, but not condescending, smile, “oh, you really are new to the scene aren’t you?” She took another drink and set the martini glass down. 

“Black-and-tan means mixed race.” Fox popped in again. This time stirring a glass with a long silver spoon. 

Ladybug nodded, “here, people are people.” 

“And money is money!” Fox grinned, sliding the drink down to a customer behind Adrien. “Hadn’t you noticed?” 

Adrien was genuinely surprised. He found himself scanning the crowd once more and it was indeed a mix of all races. And not only were they occupying the same space with no qualms, they were  _ mingling,  _ truly mixing, talking, laughing, cheering, dancing. 

Adrien found the sight completely refreshing. 

“I didn’t even...wow...it’s so calm and normal I didn’t even notice!”

Fox’s smile was wide and her eyes glinted, “that’s the goal.” 

“It’s not perfect of course,” said Ladybug, twirling her glass again, “we have our instances, but we take care of those seriously and quickly.” 

Adrien turned back to face her, “well, I think you two have done an absolute stand up job.” 

Ladybug looked down at her drink, smiling softly. “Thank you very much.” 

In front of them, Fox’s eyes were darting back and forth between the two, a sly grin creeping onto her lips. 

Ladybug looked up again. “Well, now I would like to know a little bit about you. I’m curious about Bubbles’ best friend.” 

“Okay, but first, I have to know, what is the story behind the nickname Bubbles?” He asked partially because he was dying of curiosity and partially because he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to tell her about himself. 

Ladybug let out a loud laugh, “oh, that’s a good one! Fox!” She called down the bar, “Fox! I need you, we have to tell the Bubb--” 

“Ladybug!” She was cut off as a man came waltzing up to them. He was a round fellow with his white hair slicked back and a fantastically styled white mustache perched under his nose. His cheeks were rosy and his brown eyes were kind. He wore a yellow and orange mask which looked to be emulating the sun. “I have been looking for you high and low all evening long.” He spoke with a warm Italian accent. 

She turned and looked back at the man and a bright smile burst onto her face, “Mr. Sole, how wonderful to see you! I didn’t know you had returned from your trip already.” 

“Ah yes, I’m afraid it was cut short due to some unforeseen situations. But, no matter,” he waved his hand through the air, “I am perfectly happy to be back in my beloved Chicago. And to be back in the presence the most charming girl it has to offer.” 

Ladybug laughed, “and I’m happy to be back in the presence of the most charming boy Chicago has to offer.” She looked at Adrien and then at the cheerful man again. “Mr. Sole, I would like you to meet my new friend, Chat Noir. Chat Noir, this is one of the Kwami Club’s best patrons, Mr. Sole. He was here on the very first night we opened.” 

“And I haven’t strayed since!” Mr. Sole boomed, laughing loudly. 

Adrien stood and offered his hand, “I must say, I’m not surprised in the least. Nice to meet you, Mr. Sole.” 

The man took Adrien’s hand giving it a firm shake, “likewise. And yes, this place is a little slice of heaven isn’t it?” 

“I would definitely have to agree. It’s my first night here and I’m already smitten.” 

Mr. Sole smiled, “all it takes is one night. Be careful or you’ll find these ladies drawing you back here every night after.” 

Adrien laughed, “I can’t say I would complain.” 

Behind them, the band finished a song. The last notes trailing through the air. Then the trumpeter started to play, popping off the beginning notes of a well-known and well-loved tune. 

Ladybug gave Mr.Sole a knowing smile, “now, I wonder who could have requested this?” 

Mr. Sole only winked and then turned to Adrien, “Mr. Noir, I wonder if you would mind terribly if I stole this lovely woman from your side for a dance?” 

Adrien smiled, “I’m afraid I’m not the one you should be asking.” 

“Ah, yes, how very right you are!” He turned to Ladybug and bowed slightly holding out his hand. “Ms. Ladybug, I wonder if you would mind terribly if I stole you from this lovely man’s side for a dance?” 

Ladybug and Adrien both laughed then. “How could I resist such a dashing dance partner.” She said as she put her hand in Mr. Sole’s and stood from her seat. She looked over her shoulder at Adrien and gave him a lovely smile. “It was wonderful talking to you. Please, make yourself at home.” 

Adrien smiled back, “the pleasure was all mine, my lady.” 

He only caught a glimpse of her slightly widened eyes and light blush before Mr. Sole whisked her onto the dance floor. 

The song was bursting with popping rhythm and happy notes. Adrien noticed that three women had joined the band on stage were now singing along with the jumping music of the band. 

Mr. Sole swung Ladybug out onto the dance floor and began to dance with fervor and energy that Adrien could only hope he would have when he was Mr. Sole’s age. Ladybug easily kept up, her feet moving in perfect rhythm and timing, so fast Adrien’s eyes almost couldn’t follow them. He’d seen this kind of lively and wild dancing before and heard the music, but he never tried it himself. He was ballroom taught. Yet another thing Adrien had not decided for himself. 

A smile lit up his face as he watched the two laugh and bounce around the floor along with the other customers of the club. The music reached its fever pitch and Nino jumped up from his bench, kicked it backward and really started to pound the keys. Sweat rolling off his face, he was grinning from ear to ear. People whistled and cheered from the crowd and Adrien couldn’t help but join them. He was completely swept away by this place and these people. By Fox and her spitfire retorts, by Nino and this new side he hadn’t seen before, by Mr. Sole and his wild dancing and by Ladybug and her bright smile. 

The song finished with a triumphant cheer from the crowd. The singers bowed and blew kisses. Nino looked over at Adrien with a wink and a grin. Ladybug leaned up and planted a cheerful kiss on Mr. Sole’s cheek. And somewhere in the back of the club, a glass smashed and a girl cried out under the din of noise. 

Adrien heard it loud and clear, he turned quickly in his chair to find the source.

“I  _ said  _ let’s GO!” An angry, hulking man was leering over a woman sat in one of the back booths. He had her hand grasped tightly in his and yanked her to her feet. She struggled against him, but he started to drag her towards the door anyway. No one seemed to be noticing, the cheers had grown louder again as the band burst into another popular song. 

Without even fully realizing it Adrien had gotten to his feet and started through the crowd towards the situation, he had no plan, but no one was paying attention. Someone had to do something. 

“Excuse me.” Then, from seemingly nowhere, Ladybug appeared in front of the man. Her hands were on her hips and the fierceness in her eyes caused Adrien to stop mid-step. “It looks to me like your date might be over. Kindly remove your hand from the lady and be on your way, sir.” 

Unfortunately for Ladybug, this particular man was past the level of drunkenness where one might still listen to sense and reason. “Shut your mouth, woman. This is none of your business.” Still too far away Adrien could only watch as the man raised his hand and smacked Ladybug across the face. She stumbled to the side and Adrien’s legs flew forwards. Anger surged through his limbs. His vision tunneled until the man, still dragging the woman, was all he saw. 

Then a gunshot reverberated off every surface of the club and stole every ounce of sound in its wake. The band’s notes dropped from the air like rocks. All conversation was silenced. Adrien’s heart almost stopped completely until his eyes finally made sense of the scene. 

Ladybug stood where she had stumbled to the side, but her feet were firmly planted once more. One arm was raised in front of her and in her hand, she held a sleek revolver which was pointed at a rather sizeable hole in the ornate wooden floor. The man had stopped moving and the woman looked back with wide horrified eyes. Ladybug raised the gun and pointed it now at the back of the man’s head. The sound of her cocking it rang through the silence. The man looked back at Ladybug, his eyes widened with sudden sobriety. 

“Either you remove your disgusting hands from that woman or I will make you do so.” 

He dropped the woman’s hand like a hot iron. The woman scrambled away from the range of fire. 

“Now, you listen to me and listen to me well. You will never, ever show your scummy face anywhere near my club again. And because you’ve already proven yourself most idiotic I’ll show you exactly what will happen if you do.” Her gun lowered to point right at his groin. She arched an eyebrow. “Do I make myself clear?” Her voice was even and calm, but commanding, leaving no room for negotiation.

The man gulped deeply and nodded. 

“In addition, you now have a special job. Your special job is to go out and tell each of  your friends and colleagues, who I am sure are equally repulsive, that the Kwami Club is not a place that tolerates the unwanted attentions of  _ any  _ man or woman and you will tell them exactly what will happen if they try. Do you understand?” 

The man nodded again. 

“Good. Now, Get. Out. Of. My. Club.” She ground out each word, her festering anger finally snapping to the surface. 

The man turned around so quick he almost tumbled into Cupid and Watch who stood ready to drag him out and that’s exactly what they did. 

Ladybug watched the man as he was dragged out and didn’t lower her gun until the door closed behind them. She secured the revolver in a holster buckled around her thigh. She turned back to the rest of the club who were all stock still and silent. 

She placed a smile firmly on her face, “I’m terribly sorry for the interruption to such a lovely evening everyone, please forgive me.” She put a hand to her chest. “As an apology, please accept a round on the house!” 

The bar exploded in cheers and whoops and whistles. 

Fox bounded from behind the bar and shot past Adrien. He watched as she fussed over Ladybug’s face checking for injuries. Then after a bit of coaxing, she pulled Ladybug around the bar and through a door that must have led to the back offices of the club. 

Adrien couldn’t move from his spot. He stared at the splintered piece of flooring like it held all the answers to the universe. 

That woman. 

That woman was terrifying. 

That woman was terrifyingly stunning. 

Adrien looked back at the door she had disappeared through, which was still swinging on its hinges. 

That woman was someone he wanted to discover entirely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, oh boy, oh golly gee gosh thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> I threw around a lot of outdated 1920s slang because it's SO ADORABLE, but if some of them threw y'all for a loop here's the resource I used for that: http://local.aaca.org/bntc/slang/slang.htm
> 
> If you liked it please let me know with a little kudos or even a comment (I'll even just take a row of exclamation points!!) Responses fuel my creative juices to the max, so let me know what you thought! 
> 
> EDIT: UM. SO. The beautiful soul QookyQuiche made [fan art](http://qookyquiche.tumblr.com/post/147547198370/first-of-all-commissions-are-officially-closed-i) and I JUST....JUST GO LOOK GO LOOK AHHHH 
> 
> (Also I went back and cleaned up this chapter more. There was a lot of "I a word" going on.)
> 
> You can also hit me up on my [tumblr](http://seajaywrite.tumblr.com/) !


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, guys, thank you so, so much for all the comments, kudos and bookmarks left for the first chapter. I even received [fan art](http://qookyquiche.tumblr.com/post/147547198370/first-of-all-commissions-are-officially-closed-i) from QookyQuiche!! AHHH! I'm just so, so flattered!! 
> 
> Yes. Indeed. This chapter is 12.5k words. 
> 
> I just had a lot to get off my chest, okay?! But, people typically like longer fan fic chapters, right? (I DO!!) 
> 
> Also, I don't have a beta and while I read this baby about five times over, I still might have missed some things, so please forgive me if you stumble over some mistakes on your way to the bottom of the page! 
> 
> Enjoy!

When Adrien eased open the front gate of the Agreste mansion, the soft colors of morning were already splashing across the city. He couldn’t help but feel suddenly exposed. The mask and ears had been removed and placed carefully in the small velvet bag which he now held in his hand. It was like someone had ripped the blankets off after a night of bundled warmth. He longed for the dark shadows and moonlight of night to settle back over him. Taking a deep breath he slowly made his way up the stone pathway to the front of the mansion, the flora and fauna of the garden waking and stretching around him.

Climbing the steps to the front door he realized he didn’t actually have a key to his own house, but the door, as if sensing the presence of an Agreste, swung inward. Adrien jumped, immediately going rigid, his eyes wide and searching the doorway for the infuriated face of his father.

“Adrien.” That cool and quite assuredly feminine voice was definitely not his father's.

“N-Nathalie! I was...sorry I didn’t…” The head housekeeper of the Agreste mansion looked unimpressed, a small frown formed on her lips. She was dressed impeccably in her uniform of a long black dress overlaid with a crisp white apron. Her hair was swept away from her face and styled in the same neat bun she had worn since Adrien could remember. Not for the first time in his life, he wondered just what time the woman woke up every morning.

While her official title in the household was head housekeeper, her responsibilities stretched well beyond that title. She had also been Adrien’s governess and schooled him along with several other tutors his father had hired. In addition, she was schedule master of the house. She knew where everyone was to be and what they were to be doing, every day, all day. There wasn’t anything that happened in the Agreste family that she did not know about. In fact, she could often be found at the studio offices and on set when Adrien was filming. Nathalie was Gabriel Agreste’s second pair of eyes and ears. The fact that Adrien had managed to slip her gaze for the night probably was responsible for the extra coldness coming off her in waves.

She stepped to the side, “I suggest you come inside instead of loitering on the stoop like some vagrant.”

“Y-Yes, ah, yes. Sorry.” He all but scrambled inside. Nathalie closed the door behind him and he looked at her expectantly. Adrien knew the next words out of her mouth would order him to march up to his father’s study. At some point, he had started holding his breath.

However, Nathalie merely folded her hands in front of her and glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the foyer. It read 6:17 AM. “I believe it would be wise of you to try and get a few hours of sleep and perhaps a bath.” His disheveled hair received a pointed look. “Your father has cleared your schedule till noon.”

What?

“What?” Adrien echoed aloud.

Nathalie’s patience was waning quickly. “Your schedule is free till noon so you have an appropriate amount of time to make yourself presentable for public once more.”

Adrien had to keep himself from asking ‘what?’ yet again. He glanced around, looking towards the drawing room, the door of which stood open, showing off its darkened and uninhabited inside. He looked up the wide curving staircase searching the railing above, but the only sign of his father was the massive portrait of them both that hung at the top of the stairs. “Where’s my father? I thought he would…” Adrien trailed off, eyes swinging back towards Nathalie.

“He has already left for the day.” All patience for him gone, she swept past him and started down the hallway to the left of the stairs. “I’ll retrieve you at noon.”

And then Adrien was left alone and entirely confused. After a moment he decided he might as well play along with whatever game this was and started up the stairs to his room.

Quite expectedly, Adrien Agreste’s room was beyond luxurious. The room featured a high vaulted ceiling and from its middle hung an impressive electric chandelier which loomed dark and unlit overhead. Directly across from the double door entry into his room were three tall and slim windows, all framed in a deep green drapery and hand embroidered with golden flowers and leaves. The floor beneath his shoes was a light oak and laid out in a geometric pattern of squares. In the middle of the room was a seating area that consisted of a cabriole sofa upholstered in amber silk and two bergère chairs covered in silk that was thinly striped in the amber of the sofa and green of the curtains. The far left side of the bedroom was dominated by the massive canopy bed, wrapped in amber, gold and green silks to match the rest of the decor. All the way across the bedroom was the fireplace, sitting against the right-hand wall. It was simply carved with the straight lines and right angles of the art deco style. In its depths, a fire crackled heartedly. His neatly organized desk, with its simple square shape and rounded corners, sat at a diagonal on the left side of the fireplace.

Adrien heaved out a breath and fell against the door. He leaned his head back and started to undo his black bowtie with one hand.

After Ladybug had been spirited away out of sight by Fox, the night had continued without skipping a single note. If anything the club only became more lively as if to chase away any remaining tension that clung to the corners and shadows. Fox had appeared back behind the bar some time later and when Adrien inquired after Ladybug he was informed that she had been sent home. And most unwillingly by the sound of it. Adrien couldn’t help the small pang of disappointment that had filled him at the news, but more than that he was glad that she would be able to get some probably much-needed rest.

He could have gone after that. He could have said goodbye to Nino and his new acquaintances and grabbed a taxi home and maybe that’s exactly what he should have done, but Adrien found himself settling back in his seat at the bar and ordering another drink. And that’s where he spent the rest of the night. Listening to Nino and the band, watching the dancers, talking to Fox and even striking up a conversation with Mr. Sole again. Actually, Adrien found him chatting away easily with everyone around him. He had never felt more confident and relaxed in a social setting in his life. He knew the liquor had helped, but he only had three drinks total over several hours, so it couldn’t have been entirely responsible.

No.

Adrien lifted his hand holding the black bag. He reached in removing the mask as he moved towards his bed. Sitting down on the edge he placed the bag next to him and held the black mask in his hands. It was truly a stunning piece of work.

He fell back holding the mask aloft so that the light that filtered through the windows glinted off of its decorations.

So, beautiful.

He let his hands fall to the sides, one still holding the mask gently. His eyes drifted closed and instantly the black behind his eyes was filled with a sparkling blue. Adrien sighed and a small smile tugged at his lips.

“Plagg…” he said quietly, “...I don’t think I’m going to be able to stay away.”

He reached his empty hand out towards the mountain of pillows at the head of the bed, searching. Cracking open his eyes he turned his head to look at the heap, “come here, you old grump.”

His eyes searched the gold and green mess to find the telltale pair of furry black ears peeking up from the depths of the pillows, but no such ears emerged. Adrien furrowed his eyebrows and sat up. Placing the mask carefully back into the bag and setting it on his bedside table he turned his attentions back to the unnecessary amount of pillows.

He started to remove them one by one. “Where are you? Are you hiding?” But, once all the pillows were removed there was still no trace of his scraggly black cat or his big green eyes. Adrien frowned.

“Plagg, come here, it’s breakfast time.” He called, slipping off of the bed and crouching down to look underneath it, but that space was empty as well. Adrien stood back up and swept his eyes over the rest of the room. He even checked his spotless bathroom and impressive walk-in closet, but there was no sign of black fur anywhere. In the ten long years that Plagg had been with Adrien, the cat had never failed to come running when a meal was mentioned. Maybe Plagg was pissed off that Adrien had abandoned him for a whole night.

For now, however, Adrien was hit quite all at once with just how exhausted he was, he could worry about his furry friend later. He’d come around eventually.

 

>> \+ <<

 

“Are you sure you should be coming with me today?” Alya looked over at Marinette as they drove down the bumpy dirt path.

“I’m fine, Alya,” Marinette said, for what had to be the tenth time in more than an hour. The city had long disappeared behind them and was replaced by wide expanses of farmlands, dotted here and there with little homesteads. They had already driven through the small town of Wheaton and were now truly in the depths of the Illinois farm country.

“Besides,” Marinette said as she pulled on her green cloche hat to secure it more firmly over her short hair, “I want to see your family, I haven’t seen them in months. Not to mention, we’re partners.” She looked at Alya, her expression serious. “And our business just took a serious blow.”

Alya glanced over again, her eyes lingering briefly on the left side of Marinette’s face, “okay, I’ll stop asking. But, I hope you know my mama is going to freak out when she sees your face.

The bruises had certainly come into full bloom overnight. The makeup she had used had only done so much to cover the damage. Patches of blue, purple and a sickly green covered her cheek bone, spreading down to her jaw. There was quite a bit of swelling and Marinette winced in pain every time she spoke or smiled. She was just thankful the man’s gigantic hand had missed her eye.

“What did you tell your parents, by the way?” Alya asked.

Marinette blew a huff of air out, training her eyes on the empty blue sky. “I told them I tripped over some fabric in the middle of the night and hit my head on my sewing table.”

“Boy, you are lucky you’re so naturally clumsy, I swear it’s the only way you get away with coming home all banged up.” Alya slowed down to make a left turn, down an equally deserted dirt road. The only thing that marked it was a weathered stake stuck in the ground, its tip painted red. “I really wish you would stop inserting yourself into confrontations needlessly. Kim and Alix would have taken care of it.”

“No.” Marinette shook her head. “We can’t rely solely on them. I told you from the start, if we’re going to run our own club, we have to establish that we are the authority.”

Alya sighed, “I know, I just…” she shook her head, “after seeing James like that and then you…” she trailed off and then started again. “I’m just a little freaked out. The Moretti’s have never been so bold before.”

“I know.” She looked over at her friend. “I’m sorry I scared you, Alya.”

“Just...let’s just be as careful as we can, okay?”

“Deal.”

And both women went quiet for a moment. Then Alya broke the silence, “So...you and Nino’s friend seemed to get along quite well.”

Marinette looked out the passenger window, avoiding Alya’s probing gaze, “yes, he was nice.”

“Just nice?” Alya quirked an eyebrow.

“Alya…” Marinette warned.

“What? I’m not disagreeing, he was very nice...also very nice to look at.” Her eyebrows waggled in Marinette’s direction.

Marinette sank down into her seat still avoiding her friend’s gaze completely, “he wasn’t...unattractive.”

“Oh come on! He was gorgeous and you know it! Also,” a sly smirk crossed her lips, “he was quite concerned about you after you left for the night.”

She fell right into the trap. “He was?” Marinette said just a bit too eagerly, finally turning to face her friend.

A wide grin settle across Alya’s face, “Quite.”

Marinette flushed, knowing she’d just been caught in Alya’s mousetrap.

“Oh look!” She cried, a bit pitchy, pointing out of the window. “We’re here!” They pulled up in front of a decently sized farm house. Marinette scrambled out of the car quickly.

The Césaire farm wasn’t anything spectacular and they wanted it that way. It was an average sized corn farm. The tall fields of corn that surrounded the house stretched for several acres. The two-story house was cleanly whitewashed with gray shutters around each of its big windows. The bottom floor had a wrap around porch and two chimneys stood strong on either end of the house, smoke puffing from their tops. Some ways behind it stood a large barn, a worn red paint job covering its surface. To the right of the left of the house and much further back, behind the fields, Marinette could make out the second group of even more rundown buildings.

“ALYA!” High pitched squeals erupted from the porch as the front screen door banged open and three balls of arms, legs and hair came sprinting towards the girls. Alya was barely able to brace herself as the three children collided with her legs, hopping up and down and breathlessly asking questions that drowned each other out.

“Whoa, whoa, alright, nice to see you too, but did you happen to notice who I brought with me?” Alya grinned and pointed at Marinette.

Three pairs of eyes turned on her and all at once they widened, “MARI! MARI!” The squealing children untangled themselves from their sister and barrelled towards Marinette repeating the same ritual with her legs.

The triplets were only nine years old and the youngest three of the seven Césaire children. Marinette, despite being almost knocked on her ass, laughed, “Well if it isn’t my three favorite people!” She ruffled each of their heads in turn.

Angeline, one of the triplets, stared up at Marinette and grinned until she caught sight of the bruises, “Mari!” she gasped, “Mari, what happened!”

“Oh no!” Cried Tamara who clung to her leg and looked up at her. She looked like she might start crying.

David, the only boy of the three, caught sight of the bruise too pulled away from her, “MAMA!” He screamed and ran back towards the house, “Mama! Mari is hurt! Mama!”

Mrs. Césaire had already come out of the front door and was walking down the front steps when her son came running towards her. She was a tall and stocky woman. Her graying hair was pulled back into a loose bun at the back of her head. She wore a simple yellow dress covered with a flowery apron that was stained with various cooking ingredients.

“Now, now,” she said calmly, “what is all this fuss about?” She looked up at the two women with a warm smile, her eyes widening when she saw Marinette’s face. “Oh, Marinette!” She hurried over and took her jaw gently in her hand, turning it to the side. “What happened?!”

Marinette tried her best to smile nonchalantly, “It’s no biggie, Mrs. Césaire, really, it’ll heal up in no time.” She glanced towards Alya for help, who just raised her eyebrows, clearly saying ‘I told you so.’

Esther Césaire was having none of it. She let go of Marinette’s chin and crossed her arms. The look she gave her was Alya’s ‘I’m-not-hearing-of-your-bullshit’ look times ten thousand. Marinette withered beneath it accordingly.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, if you don’t stop putting yourself in these situations you’re going to force me to pay a visit to your parents. When we agreed to work together on this little project I made it clear that you two,” she pointed at both women, “were to leave the rough business to the boys. This is the second time I’ve seen you battered like this and I’m sure there have been more times than that. You know that I already absolutely hate that your parents are being kept in the dark and you’re making it even harder for me to keep my word on that.”

The guilt that Marinette was barely able to hold back on her best days came crashing down onto her shoulders. She ducked her head down and stared at her feet, chewing on her lip.

She was right, of course. If Mrs. Césaire hated keeping everything from her parents, Marinette loathed it. For the past two years, every time her father smiled at her, every time her mother kissed her forehead Marinette felt like she might drown in guilt. But, it simply wasn’t possible to include them in on everything. It was too dangerous.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Césaire. I really am.”

Mrs. Césaire sighed and cupped Marinette’s face gently and lifted it back up, her eyes had softened, “I just worry about you, both of you. It’s scary to see you like this, especially after James…” Her hand dropped away.

Marinette nodded and blew out a heavy breath. “That’s why we came. I wanted to see James.”

“And,” Alya said, coming close now that her mother’s wrath was quelled, “we need to have a discussion about what this means.”

The older woman nodded, “yes, I believe we do.” She turned to the triplets, all standing to the side and still staring up at Marinette. “Why don’t you three go off and find your, papa and the others? Tell them we need to have a family meeting.”

“Okay, mama!” Said Angeline. “Come on guys!” She and her brother and sister took off through the corn fields, heading for the old group of buildings.

Mrs.Césaire looked back at Alya and Marinette, “come on, James, is awake. He’ll be happy to see you two.”

The three women entered the house. They were led to a small room just off the kitchen, it used to be a storage room, but Mrs.Césaire had repurposed it into a kind of sick room. Quarantine was important when you had nine people crammed into a three bedroom house.

James lay on a simple cot in the corner of the room. One small window sat above the cot letting in a pale light. There was a wash basin and a small shelf of bandages and medicine. James had clean white bandages wrapped around his head, his crop of curly black hair popping out of the top, one of his lips had been stitched up and his nose was wrapped up too. His brown eyes were barely able to open, but the swelling had gone down considerably. His right arm was in a sling and a crude cast. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt so Marinette could easily see the wealth of bruises he had acquired across his dark skin.

Marinette felt like she’d been sucker punched when she saw him. “James…”

He smiled a little upon seeing them come into the room, before wincing at the motion, “hey,” he croaked, his voice rough, “what a sight for some very sore eyes.”

Marinette had met the Césaires when she was a little girl. They would supply her parents with flour from what little wheat they did grow amongst their corn. She and Alya had hit it off from the start. Marinette loved coming out to pick up the flour with her parents, she enjoyed the fresh air, the wide open spaces and especially all of the children to play with. Eventually, the two families became close friends and trips to pick up supplies became dinners and long Sundays spent running through fields and playing with all the siblings she never had. Even after the Césaires stopped producing wheat and turned fully to corn, the Dupain-Cheng’s would visit.

James was Mr. Césaire’s nephew, he came to live and work on the farm when he was twelve after both his parents died of smallpox. To Alya, he was just like another brother and by extension, Marinette saw him that way too. At thirty-two years old, he was the oldest of all the Césaire children

Alya sat on the edge of the cot, pushing back his unkempt hair to get a better look at his face. “Well, you’re looking better already.” She smiled a little.

Marinette plopped down in a chair near the bed and Esther leaned against the doorway.

“James, I’m so sorry.” Marinette felt like she might never stop apologizing.

With some effort, James rolled his eyes, “oh don’t start that, Mari. It wasn’t you who was punching me in the face.”

“It might as well have been,” she said softly.

James frowned, “that’s ridiculous and you know it. We all know what bootlegging entails. Unfortunately, getting the shit kicked out of you is one of those things.” He leaned up a little more, “speaking of getting the shit kicked out of you...what happened to your face?”

Marinette smiled slightly, “well, you’re not the only who gets wear bruises. They’re all the rage you know.”

Esther made a dangerous noise of protest.

James quirked an eyebrow, “you got your ass chewed out didn’t you?”

“Well, it wasn’t undeserved,” Marinette said.

He laughed, “it never is when it comes from Mama Césaire.”

Marinette reached out and took his hand, “seriously, though James…I’m sorry this happened to you.”

He shrugged, “It was bound to happen sooner or later to someone, I’m just glad it was me and not Jean.”

Alya sucked in a breath, “it shouldn’t have been anyone.”

“I have to agree with that.” Mr. Césaire said as he entered the room.

Stanley Césaire was broader than he was tall. In fact, his sons would tell you he actually was an inch shorter than his wife, of course, they would never say that in his presence. He was built with the muscles only a lifetime of farming could grow. His eyebrows were gray and bushy and settled over his almost black eyes. A few years ago he decided to stop fighting his ever receding hairline and just shave it all off. His head was now a perfectly smooth patch of dark skin.

Alya’s older brother Stanley Jr. and her two younger brothers Jean and Peter came in behind Mr. Césaire. Marinette was surprised they all fit. All the Césaire boys towered over their father, where they got their astounding height was a family mystery. Standing all together they made a formidable trio. Junior and Peter came and greeted the girls warmly, but Jean lingered in the doorway. His head ducked and his hands jammed into his pockets.

“So, it seems the Morettis don’t want to take ‘no’ for an answer,” Junior said, leaning against the wall next to James’ cot.

Marinette sighed. “Yes, I think this means they are done courting us.”

In Chicago, one didn’t just open up a speakeasy and start supplying it with booze. There were certain channels, certain groups that you went through.

Marinette had wanted no part of those.

Alya’s family had gotten into the illegal liquor game early on. It was too tempting for a farmer with tons of mouths to feed and the space and means to do it. At first what they made was only dispersed in the immediate area, but soon Esther and Stanley had started looking into bigger customers to supply. However, they quickly learned that all of the speakeasies in Chicago were under the thumb of only a couple of families and one family, in particular, had a monopoly on the bootlegging market, the Morettis.

When Marinette came to them with the idea of the Kwami Club, the Césaires quickly agreed to supply her with the necessary liquor and funds to start the business. Alya and Marinette agreed to run the place together and a partnership was born. The Kwami Club exploded with popularity overnight and while that was fantastic for business, it also had negative effects, namely, arousing the interest of the Morettis.

For the past two years, the bootlegging kingpin of Chicago had been trying to schmooze and bargain its way into becoming the sole booze supplier of the little independent club. Marinette was actually impressed that they had stayed non-violent for so long, though she had an inkling it had something to do with the mysterious Mr. Sole and his patronage.

“We knew it would happen eventually,” Alya said. “So, what are we going to do about it?” She looked around at everyone.

Mr. Césaire crossed his arms, “well for one, no more solo supply runs.”

“I can get behind that,” James said.

“I think we should be a bit more under the radar, too,” Junior added. “No more cars with crates in the back.”

“We could use the farm truck,” Peter spoke up from where he sat against the wall, his long legs pulled up to his chest. Everyone turned to him. Peter was the youngest in the room, only nineteen years old, but his brothers and sisters would tell you he was the smartest of them all. “Pile up the back with hay bales or corn crates and keep the hooch under it all. We’d need to take the family name off the side, that could end up biting us in the ass.” He paused for a second, then looked at his father, “and we’d need to be armed. I say three manning the truck every trip, everyone with a gun.”

Mr. Césaire nodded, “that could work. What do you think, hun?” He looked back at Mrs. Césaire. She was looking at Peter thoughtfully.

She sighed and looked at her husband, “I don’t like the idea of so many guns, but I also don’t like the idea of any more of my babies getting hurt.” She nodded, “yes. Okay. But, we shouldn’t meet in the city anymore.”

Junior nodded, “too many eyes, too many ears. Let’s make the exchanges in Wheaton. At the Saturday market.”

Peter raised his eyebrows, “in broad daylight?”

“Yes,” Junior continued, “it’s unexpected. And there are plenty of goods and supplies changing from truck to truck there.”

“What about on the other side? Who’s going to meet the truck?” Mr. Césaire asked.

“I will, along with Alix and Kim,” Alya answered.

Marinette turned to look at her with a frown, “Alya…”

Alya put up a hand, “don’t even start. This is my side of the business. I’m going to make sure it runs smoothly. I’ve said it enough times so just stop.”

Marinette looked around at everyone in the room. All of these people she loved so dearly, every single one of them could have a gun to their head at any point from here on out. The thought of that nearly broke her. She’d already seen enough people she loved with guns to their heads to last her a lifetime. She felt all the determined fire blow out of her in one fell swoop. And she found herself saying, “maybe we should just…” she chewed on her lip and looked down at her tightly clasped hands, “should we even try? I mean that family...”

“Are you saying you would take them up on their offer?” Mr. Césaire asked.

She jerked her head up to look at him. He was frowning heavily and his eyes were narrowed.

“You and my family, you and my daughter, you and I made a deal, Marinette. I thought you were well aware of what you were getting yourself into. I know my family and I were, we knew exactly the risks we were taking. When I decided to go into business with you, it was because I knew you had good reasons and I knew you were tenacious enough for it. Did I make the wrong assessment?”

“Stanley.” Mrs. Césaire said, cautioning him.

“No.” He waved his wife off and his attention focused back on Marinette. “Did I, Marinette? Have your goals changed? Tell me right now and we’ll dissolve this partnership here and now and you can go running right back into the hands of the people that put you in this position.”

Marinette felt a stinging across her face that had nothing to do with her bruises. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his hardened face. A lump formed in her throat, but she didn’t dare let that be known. Finally, she shook her head “No. No, that’s the last thing I want.”

Mr. Césaire was silent for a long time before he finally walked over to where she sat and thrust his hand out, “We’re not going to be backed into a corner like dogs. What about you?”

Marinette looked at his rough hands, covered in blisters and dirt from the fields. Strong hands. Hands that would protect what he had made and what he loved with unrelenting fierceness. She felt the embers inside her flare up once again.

She stood up and met his eyes again, this time with blazing tenacity. “Nobody touches my family without repercussions.”

A moment of doubt. Just a moment. It wasn’t nearly enough to douse her resolve completely.

His gaze finally softened and he smiled, “you’re damn right about that.” He let go of her hand and put his hand on Alya’s shoulder. “No more doubts. I won’t hear of it anymore.” He looked down at his daughter, “from either of you. We have to be all in or this will only end in the worst of ways.”

Alya and Marinette looked each other and the women silently fortified their partnership and their friendship once more.

 

>> \+ <<

 

Adrien was not a fool.

Sheltered? Yes.

Homeschooled? Yes.

But, a fool? Absolutely not.

If anything his homeschooling and lack of interaction with the outside world made him all the more sharp and observant when it came to the ongoings inside and outside his home. He read the newspaper front to back every day, he listened to the radio every night. Anything to do with news or knowledge of any kind was of interest to him.

So, he was well aware of the rumors and accusations that floated around his family. And he knew, probably more than any journalist sleuth, that the rumors held more merit than the public might think.

The success of Papillon Productions just didn’t quite add up. Oh yes, Adrien himself was quite popular and any movie he starred in raked in piles of cash and five-star reviews, however, he didn’t star in every movie that the studio produced. At most, he would do two a year. The other movies that the studio put out were good, but they didn’t put Papillion Productions on level with a giant like Warner Bros was becoming, especially with the wild success of The Jazz Singer. Either way one looked at it, the bottom lines just didn’t add up when it came to the Agreste lifestyle and the revenue created by the studio.

Adrien was sure everything somehow added up perfectly in the eyes of the IRS, his father was too careful to make that mistake. But, based on logic and his observations of less than savory characters that he saw in his house from time to time, he knew his father was being bankrolled at least somewhat illegally. And in Chicago’s current climate, all signs pointed towards organized crime.

There were reasons why Gabriel made sure his son was well versed in the art of self-defense and they went beyond keeping him trim for the camera. Since his sixth birthday, Adrien had been trained in a newer form of Chinese martial arts called Jow-Ga, he’d also dabbled in some boxing and fencing. Gabriel had even made sure his son knew how to properly aim and fire a gun. All this and what he had observed for most of his life spelled one thing out for Adrien:

His father was involved with some very dangerous people.

And it was because of this that Adrien found himself extremely on edge when he woke up and showered and still had not seen or heard from his father. Gabriel’s lavish study stood silent and empty. No trace or hint of him lingered around the Papillion studio lot when Adrien arrived to do his post-premiere interview with a visiting reporting from the New York Times. Nathalie was silent on the whole matter and Adrien couldn’t bring himself to ask.

He should feel happy that his father wasn’t breathing down his neck. He should feel ecstatic he didn’t arrive home that morning to face a raging storm. He should feel relaxed, carefree. But, if anything, the absence of his father only made him feel paranoid, tense and more trapped. He knew his father knew where he went last night, Adrien was convinced his father had eyes and ears everywhere. So where was the repercussion? It felt like the ever persistent waves were dragging too far back from the shore, only to surge up and crash down on everything in their wake. It was these dark visions of his near future that caused Adrien to throw his caution completely out to sea and hunt down Nino.

On the soundstage where Bad Luck, Jack was filmed, the crew was in the final stages of striking set pieces and technical equipment. Nino had taken the production manager up on his offer of extra cash to help out. Adrien found him helping a few other men wheel away a heavy portion of wall that had once made up part of Jack’s bedroom. He pulled himself up onto a wooden crate and waited politely for Nino to finish his current task.

As soon as he finished Nino spotted Adrien sitting to the side and jogged over, “hey, what brings a cat like you around here?” He flashed a grin.

The corner of Adrien’s lips lifted at the reference. “You wouldn’t happen to be working at the Kwami Club again--” Nino lunged forwards and slammed his hand over Adrien’s loose lips.

“Hey, man!” Nino whispered and glanced around before leaning closer, “you can’t just be throwin’ that name out there.” He removed his hand and lifted up his paperboy cap to rub his hair nervously. “I know the fact that they exist ain’t much of a secret, but the fact that I’m moonlighting at one is, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about it around the lot, got it?”

Adrien flushed a little. Of course, it was supposed to be a secret. Nino could easily lose his position with the studio if they found out he was essentially committing a crime every night. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. It won’t happen again.”

Nino shook his head and sighed, “It’s alright, I should have made that more clear last night” He pushed his hat back down on his head. “Anyway, yes, I am. Why?” The grin that re-appeared on his face saying that he already had an inkling why.

Adrien purposely looked at a group of men breaking down a tall light. “I enjoyed it. I want to go back.”

Nino’s eyebrow arched, “uh huh.”

“What? I did!” He looked back at Nino.

“Oh, I know you did. You made that quite clear last night. The way you got all goofy after meeting a certain bug was particularly telling, I must say.”

He sputtered, “I did not get all goofy!”

“Nothing to be ashamed about, she’s quite the dame.” Nino patted Adrien on the shoulder and then gave it a squeeze, “but, something tells me it’s not all about her. Level with me here, is it your dad? How bad was it this morning?”

Adrien looked down at his hands, “I haven’t seen him.”

“At all?”

“Not hide nor hair.”

Nino let out a low whistle and stuffed both his hands in his pockets. “That’s got to be absolutely unnerving.”

“Yeah, it’s not exactly relaxing.” Adrien shrugged and looked up, “but, I figured, hell, I’m already in hot water, how much hotter can it get?”

His friend considered him for a minute and then shrugged, “well, you’re always welcome to come around. Everyone really liked you, Adrien.” He smiled, “and I liked seeing you enjoy yourself properly for once, so you’re not going to hear me tell you ‘no.’”

“Thanks, Nino.”

“Anytime. I’ve got to finish up here, but then we can head out. Mind waiting?”

Adrien slid off of the crate, “I’ll lend a hand.”

Nino raised both his eyebrows this time. “Naw, you don’t have to do that.”

But Adrien was already pulling off his suit jacket and loosening his green tie. “I want to.”

“Well, alright. Come on.” Nino shook his head and led Adrien over to the others.

Two hours later the once crowded soundstage was again an empty cavernous space waiting to be transformed into the next fictional world. Adrien and Nino said goodbye to the crew members who had gotten a kick out of watching the young Agreste heir moving set pieces and wrapping cords and soon they were on their way to that secret underground place. They had dropped by the Agreste mansion so Adrien could grab the mask and also change his attire. Despite knowing that he could have walked in wearing a much more casual suit, he felt that since Chat Noir had made his debut in a tux that it was part of the character he had created. Besides, dressing up had always been the one thing Adrien enjoyed about stuffy parties and fancy premieres.

“By the way,” Nino said once they had arrived and began walking up the street towards the club. “If you ever want to come without me, all you need is the current password.”

Adrien looked at him. “Current?”

“Yeah, it changes. Even though Watch would probably recognize you because you’re wearing the same thing, she’ll still demand it. She’s weird like that. Cupid will ask too if it’s changed. The new password is normally spread by word of mouth, employees will tell the most trusted guests and they, in turn, will tell their friends. It’s how we keep it as under wraps as possible and try and keep out the unsavory. However, I’ll let you in on a little secret, this is only known by employees and close friends.” He stopped at a lamppost just a few houses down from the alleyway. He jerked his chin towards the pole. His voice dropped low. “The new password, if there is one, will be marked hear in chalk on the first night it’s used. It will always be some kind of symbol of luck.”

Tonight there was a small, simply drawn four leaf clover.

“They probably changed it after last night’s little incident.” He looked at Adrien, “Got it?”

Adrien warmed at the fact that Nino was trusting him with such an important part of what kept the Kwami Club out of trouble, especially after his little slip up at the studio lot. He nodded, “your secret is purr-fectly safe with me.”

Nino groaned, “those are only going to get worse, aren’t they?”

He grinned, “I paw _-_ sitively don’t know what you are talking about.”

Nino gave him a flat look and continued up the street Adrien laughing as he followed behind.

“Oh, look who’s actually on time.” Cupid was standing at his usual post when the two masked men came into the alleyway.

“Yeah, yeah, lay off,” Nino said.

“Ah, and it looks like your friend here has come back for a second helping. I heard you go by Chat Noir, right?”

Adrien couldn’t help but smile a bit, somebody must have talked about him and his new name last night and a rather big part of him hoped it had been a certain spotted lady. “That’s correct, purr-leasure to formally introduce myself.” He put out his hand to shake.

Cupid shook his head but shook Adrien’s hand with an unsurprisingly strong grip. He looked at Nino, “you sure drag in the weird ones, Bubbles.”

Nino frowned heavily at the name. “See ya, Cupid. Got keys to play and women to sway.” He started towards the cellar doors.

“Hey,” Cupid reached out and put a hand on Nino’s shoulder. His voice had dropped its mirth and his face was solemn. “About that guy last night.”

“What about him?” Nino turned back towards the bouncer and his face grew serious. Adrien’s attention was immediately grabbed.

“When Watch and I kicked him out, he threatened retaliation. I know suckers like that say stuff like that all the time, but I just really didn’t like his look, you know?”

“Did you tell Ladybug and Fox?” Nino asked.

Cupid nodded, “yeah, I even suggested that maybe she stay outta sight for a while, but you know how she is, anyway, I’m just tellin’ everyone to keep an eye out for anything...suspicious. After what happened with the shipment, I don’t think we can really be too careful.”

Adrien arched an eyebrow. The shipment? Were they talking about the liquor? He supposed that made sense, it also made sense that they might have trouble. Adrien wasn’t completely naive about the underground world and the battles waged there.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll let the band know too. We’ll scan while we play.” He said.  
“How does she look, by the way?”

“Not good, it was a pretty nasty blow. But, she’s all smiles, of course, acting like it’s no big thing.”

Nino sighed, “Alright, got it. Thanks for the heads up, Cupid.”

Cupid pulled open the doors for them, “you know Fox changed the word, right?”

“Yeah, clover.”

He nodded, “good, you know Watch is going to ask.”

The two men headed down the stairs. The sounds and smells of the club already leaking into the air around them. The cellar doors closed with a bang above them.

Adrien wanted to ask Nino about this shipment problem, but he knew it wasn’t really any of his business and odds were Nino would be pretty tight lipped on the whole thing.

“Password.” Watch didn’t even look up from her newspaper.

“Well, good evening to you too, friend,” Nino said.

“Password.”

He sighed, “Clover.”

Still not looking up she pushed the door open and let them through. Adrien couldn’t help himself from gawking at her hair again as they passed.

“Still fake, cat boy.”

He looked away quickly with a flush of red as the entered the club.

The Kwami Club was in full swing again, just as lively and packed as the night before. Adrien was a bit surprised actually, he had expected it to be slightly less crowded after one of the owners fired off a round into the floor. If anything, it was more crowded and the night was still fairly early.

They passed through the tables and chairs filled with customers and made their way to the busy bar. Adrien only caught sight of one of the bartenders, the red-headed one who he hadn’t had the chance to meet the night before. There was no sign of Fox.

He and Nino managed to push their way up to a part of the bar that wasn’t so overwhelmed. The bartender was quickly mixing drinks with an almost panicked speed.

“Hey, Paint! You back here all by yourself? Where’s Fox?” Nino called.

Paint looked up quickly as he set down a round of drinks and took a wad of cash in exchange. “Inventory. She’ll be back soon.”

Adrien immediately picked up on his robust German accent. He raised his eyebrows, it was a little unusual to hear German accents nowadays.

Nino frowned, “Is Ladybug out on the floor?” He scanned the tables and the stage area for her.

Paint shook his head, already starting on another drink. “She’s in the back office still, I think.”

“Huh. Well, do you need a hand back there?” Nino asked.

“No, you should be playing.” Paint waved a hand at the stage where some other members of the band were already settling down with their instruments, “maybe it will distract them from wanting so much juice!” He laughed a little.

“Fair enough,” Nino smiled and clapped Adrien on the shoulder, “alright pal, I gotta get up there. You good?”

Adrien smiled back, “don’t worry about me, go up there and do your thing.”

“Alright then, make sure to behave yourself.”

“I always do.”

Nino quirked an eyebrow, “hmm, sometimes I wonder.” And then he turned and made his way to the stage.

Adrien leaned against the bar and watched his friend jump on stage and greet his band mates happily. He found himself smiling.

“Can I get you anything?” Paint was in front of him now, mixing another drink. Adrien turned to the busy bartender.

He shook his head, “don’t worry about me, I can wait until things calm down.”

Paint looked up at him as he slid a drink down the bar, “hey, you’re the cat from yesterday. Bubbles’ friend right?”

“Chat Noir, nice to meet you.” He would have offered his hand, but he knew Paint’s hands were more than occupied.

“They call me Paint here. Glad to see you back with us.” Paint reached behind him and grabbed a bottle of rum.

Adrien smiled, “glad to be back.”

“So, I didn’t scare you off last night, Mr. Noir?” The question came from Adrien’s other side.

He recognized Ladybug’s voice immediately and it caused a grin to appear on his lips. He turned to face her, flashing her his teeth “well, I’m no scaredy cat, more of the curious type…” his playful tone trailed off when he faced Ladybug fully. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, if not more so, with her spotted mask firmly in place. A different, but just as red, dress finished the whole ensemble. However, the bruises that painted her smooth skin caused him to falter. He could tell she’d tried to cover the worst of them with make-up, but the fact he could see some only spoke to just how bad they were in total.

The change in his expression didn’t go unnoticed by Ladybug and she quickly turned her cheek away and cast her eyes down, “well, you know what they say about curiosity and the cat…” she murmured. The retort not coming out as playful as she might have intended.

Adrien knew he’d messed up. He mentally kicked himself. It’s not like he hadn’t known she would be a bit bruised, so why did he have to sit there and gawk at her? He pushed himself off of the bar and bent forwards in a slight bow.

“Forgive me for staring, my Lady. I didn’t mean to cause any offense.” He looked up at and offered one hand towards her.

Ladybug blinked down at him before tentatively placing her hand in his open one.

Grasping her fingers gently Adrien pressed his lips to her knuckles for the second time in as many nights and straightened, “I have a hard time looking away from such purr-fection. Please, accept my a-paw-logy.” He grinned again, his hand still holding hers.

A burst of color exploded across Ladybug’s cheeks, but she somehow managed to place an incredulous look over it. One eyebrow raised, “Did you just…?”

“Compliment you? Paw-sibly.”

Ladybug laughed and slipped her hand from his, “oh, those are terrible!”

He leaned back against the bar and smirked, “says the person laughing.”

She put her hands on her hips, “I’m laughing at you Kitten, not with you.”

“Meow-ch!” He put a hand to his chest and clutched it. “Your claws cut deep, my lady!”

She rolled her eyes and came up next to him at the bar. She patted the hand clutching his chest, “I think you’ll recover just fine.”

Adrien’s eyes instantly sparked at her touch. Emboldened, he slipped his hand on top of hers and pressed it close to his shirt. Leaning forward he shortened the space between them just a bit. “I think you’re right, I’m feline better already.” His voice came out a bit deeper and lower than he had intended, but the effect was instantaneous.

Her eyes caught on his and Adrien watched with much interest as her bright red flush spread down her neck.

Forget a drink, he was already getting tipsy.

He watched as her lips parted, seeking some kind of response.

“Hey! If you’d stop flirting long enough to look around, you might notice that we’re a bit understaffed here.” Fox’s drawling voice, came at them from across the bar. Ladybug removed her hand from his quickly and spun around toward the bar. Fox looked entirely too amused as she studied her flustered partner. “We could use some help back here.”

“We’re only understaffed because you disappeared into the back.” Ladybug threw out as she straightened her mask that didn’t need straightening.

Fox raised an eyebrow, “you mean when I disappeared to do a quick inventory to make sure we had enough to serve tonight?”

Ladybug went a bit redder, “w-well…” she shook her head as if trying to clear a fog, “oh shut up! I’m coming to help now.” She huffed and removed herself from next to Adrien with a murmured ‘excuse me.’ Going around to the end of the bar, she lifted the partition there and slipped behind the bar, narrowly avoiding Paint as he rushed past to grab some ingredient.

Adrien watched her immediately dive into help out. Lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck he felt his own cheeks warm. He was having a hard time believing he’d just been that forward with her. He wondered if maybe he had toed a line.

Women were something he had minimal experience with. No doubt, there had been plenty of co-stars he’d found attractive and plenty had made it clear they were attracted to him. However, all of his experience with dating or relationships had just been camera fodder. It was a given that Adrien didn’t get to choose who he was seen with and who he was rumored to be involved with. Maybe it was this new found power of choosing that had given him the guts to make his interest in Ladybug so clear. Was it appropriate to do so after having only two encounters with her? He had to admit that he loved the way his words and actions flustered her seemingly indomitable confidence. But, was it okay for him to love that? Or was he just making her straight up uncomfortable?

As she drifted further and further down the bar to answer the calls of more customers, Adrien spun further and further down into his well of self-doubt. Groaning he let his forehead rest in his palm.

“Seems like you might want that drink now.” Paint said from across the bar.

Adrien didn’t look up. “Yep. I think that’s just become a necessity.”

Paint chuckled slightly, “I think I know just the thing you need.” He started to pull bottles from under the bar. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve never really seen someone get under her collar so fast.”

Letting his hand fall away from his face, Adrien looked up at him. “Yeah, but I’m wondering if it’s a good or bad thing.”

Paint shrugged, pouring what looked like a healthy amount of bourbon into a glass. “Well, I didn’t hear what all you said to her, but I gather from the way she keeps glancing over here that it wasn’t all that bad.”

Blinking Adrien glanced down the bar where Ladybug was serving up two martinis. He watched her for a moment, she seemed to have settled back into herself. Her motions easy and filled with confidence, until she peeked up at him out of the corner of her eye. She obviously wasn’t expecting him to be watching her by the way she squeaked and a glass tumbled from her hand only to shatter on the floor. Fox had been watching the whole time and burst into laughter. Ladybug threw her a boiling glare.

Paint raised an eyebrow and then looked at Adrien, setting a drink in front of him, “I really must thank you for this entertainment.” He motioned to the drink, “consider this one on the house.”

Adrien tried to protest, but Paint wouldn’t hear of it.

An hour later things had fully calmed down and the three bartenders were working in perfect tandem to keep the thirsty mouths of the Kwami Club thoroughly quenched. Adrien stayed at his spot by the bar, talking to Paint, listening to Nino and watching Ladybug at the far end. Paint revealed himself to be a pretty soft-spoken and even-tempered person. He handled impatient customers with ease and moved quickly and precisely through the motions of making the ordered drinks. It seemed he also was somewhat of a mixologist. The drink he had concocted for Adrien was unlike any other he’d had before, the bite of bourbon was subdued slightly by a sweet tang and he welcomed the warmth it offered. The regulars seemed to know this about him and would often order whatever he felt like making them. Adrien watched as he expertly mixed new and unusual drink after drink.

“So, Paint, where did you pick up your name from?” Adrien asked.

He shrugged, “it’s pretty straight forward. I paint in my free time. This is just what I do to pay the bills.”

“Really?” Adrien was immediately interested. He loved hearing people talk about their hobbies. About their passions. It was so foreign to him. “What do you paint?”

Paint seemed to get a bit shy, “people mostly.” He went quiet, but Adrien could tell he was mulling something over in his head. Finally, he spoke again, “I like to try and capture what they’re hiding. What they’re trying to keep from the world.”

“Hiding?” Adrien asked.

Paint set down the drink he was currently mixing and scratched his cheek, “well, you see, I...hrmm...I believe that most everyone has at least two faces, sometimes more. One they show the world and one they show only themselves. I...I like to observe people. I like to try and find their true beauty. The beauty they often hide in fear of judgment.” He looked back at Adrien and he immediately flushed, “Sorry, I got...carried away.” He waved his hand and smiled nervously. “Ignore me, I’m just rambling.”

But, Adrien was seriously taken with his words. He, maybe more than anyone, knew the truth behind them. “No, that’s...I think you’re absolutely correct--”

“HEY!” The shout caused both men to jump and look around for the source. “I’ve been waiting for some service here!”

The source happened to be a much smaller and petite person than one might normally match with her voice. The woman couldn’t be more than 5’2”, but the nasty scowl on her face said more than enough about how much taller her attitude was.

Paint, ever polite and patient merely smiled softly, “I’m very sorry, ma’am, I’ll be right with you, just let me finish this--”

The woman sneered. “You’d already be done with it if you hadn’t been too busy chatting.”

This time, it was Adrien who turned to her, putting on the most amicable face he could. “Allow me to take the blame for that, I was distracting him unnecessarily.”

Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms, “Why you would ever want to engage in conversation with such a lazy kaiser is beyond me.” She spat the word ‘kaiser’ with all the venom of a snake. “It’s amazing you can even understand him,” she turned back to Paint who was standing stalk still. The little exchange was starting to grab the attention of the patrons around the bar. “I think it became pretty clear during the Great War that America’s language is English. If you insist on showing your shameful face in our country after we obliterated your country, the least you could do is learn how to speak it properly.”

In that moment any graciousness or politeness that Adrien had left inside of him slipped away. Down the bar, Ladybug and Fox were already leaving their posts and heading over to shut down the confrontation.

Adrien beat them to the punch.

“Interesting perspective you’ve got there,” Adrien said as he picked up his glass and took a sip.

She scoffed, “perspective? How about fact?”

Adrien set his drink down and chuckled a bit, “ah, no, I hate to break it to you, but your perspective is just that, perspective and opinion. And a rather sadly skewed one at that.”

“Excuse me--” she started, but was cut off when Adrien raised a finger.

“I’m sorry, maybe you weren’t aware, but I was not done speaking. Politely wait your turn.” Next to him, Paint’s eyes had grown round. Ladybug and Fox had stopped their march into battle and just watched.

He lowered his finger, “I know that this might be a shock to your small minded brain but actually, the United States has no official language. That, my dear, is a fact that you could easily look up in any library. Do you perhaps want to guess why that is?”

The woman clenched her fists, “why you snotty--”

Adrien waved his hand, cutting her off, “sorry, sorry, I should have known you weren’t done spewing your hateful discourse all about the place. So, I’ll just tell you why.” Fox had to cover her mouth to prevent a giggle from escaping. “There is no official language of the United States because we are a country of immigrants. Meaning, our borders are filled with people whose families came here from other countries. And, if I’m remembering my history lessons correctly, the majority came here to escape persecution. I believe the on the base of the Statue of Liberty, the greatest symbol of freedom this country has, it says ‘Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. To spread the light of liberty worldwide for every land.’ Do correct me if I’m wrong.” His polite and even expression disappeared and was replaced with dangerous, flashing eyes. “So, in my opinion, based on the facts I’ve just presented, you are more un-American than this fellow over here, even with your perfectly spoken English. Which, by the way, feel like the British would disagree with the ‘perfectly spoken’ part.” Adrien settled her with an absolutely withering stare. “Okay, now it’s your turn to speak.”

The woman was fuming so badly all she could do was stutter incomprehensibly.

“Well, if you have nothing to say back, then I think this conversation is over.” Adrien turned to pick up his drink again, before pausing, “oh, and just a friendly suggestion, it would probably be in your best interests to find another establishment in which your sparkling personality can shine. Because I’ll tell you what, the looks those two are giving you,” he pointed towards Ladybug and Fox, “do not bode well for the rest of your night here.”

“Well, I never!” And then she actually stomped her foot. Adrien barely kept a hold on his cool exterior at the sight of her having an actual tantrum. He watched as she looked around, obviously searching for anyone who might be in her corner, but it was quickly clear to her that nobody was. She stuck her nose in the air and turned on her heel, “like I’d want to stick around such a lowbrow place!”

“Paw-sitively lovely talking with you!” Adrien called after her, his serious expression melting into a cocky grin as he waved after her quickly retreating form.

There was a beat of silence. Then--

“Oh my god,” Fox said staring at Adrien with wide eyes, “you absolutely went after her on all sixes. What a slaughter!”

Adrien shook his head, “there shouldn’t be any mercy for people like that.” He looked over at Paint who was staring at him.

Adrien grimaced, wondering if he had gone too far once again, maybe he shouldn’t have drawn so much attention to the situation. He rubbed the back of his neck, “ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it a thing. It’s just when people talk like that I--”

“No!” Paint blurted out, “no, I’m not...I wasn’t.” He closed his eyes and sighed before opening them again and smiling a little. “Thank you.”

Adrien blinked and then smiled, “of course, anytime.” He chanced a glance at Ladybug. She stood, arms crossed, with her head tilted to the side. She looked as if she was considering something. When she caught him looking over she smiled.

 

>> \+ <<

 

The rest of the night went on without incident. At some point, Marinette finally managed to get back from behind the bar and out into the crowds to do her usual round of greetings. To be honest, working the bar was her absolute least favorite part of running the club. Her perchance for clumsiness just wasn’t suited for it at all. Most of the time Alya would end up chasing her away for fear that they might have to buy a whole new case of glasses by the end of the night.

While she didn’t have the chance to speak with Chat Noir again, she did manage to keep catching his eye across the room. Each time she felt tiny pricks of energy jump across her skin. She knew he was watching her and he knew she was watching him.

Not even she could pretend like the cat hadn’t completely piqued her curiosity. Last night, when she had met him, he seemed shy, reserved and unsure. Then when she greeted him tonight he’d been confident and smooth (perhaps bordering on smarmy) with his advances towards her. And then he’d gone and absolutely obliterated that woman in such a cold and calculated manner. Not that she hadn’t deserved it. Marinette had loved watching the whole thing go down and she had to admit that he did it in a much more classy way than she or Alya had probably been planning.

Nope, she couldn’t make heads or tails of this man.

She sighed, looking up at herself in the mirror of the little dressing table she kept in one corner of her cramped back office. All she saw were dark circles under her eyes. Glancing at the clock on the wall she noted it was close to three in the morning. The club had been closed for about an hour, shutting down a bit earlier after the long night they’d pulled last night. She’d just finished counting and recording the night’s profits. Turning away from the mirror she reached up and grabbed her long black coat from the back of the door and shrugged it on, tieing the belt at her waist. She grabbed her purse and then headed for the door.

As she pushed open the door that led back into the club she could hear laughing and talking. She figured Alya and Nino were probably waiting around for her.

She smiled as she came through the door, “you guys didn’t have to wait on…” her voice trailed off as the trio looked up from the bar. Yes, trio.

Alya stood behind the bar and in front of her sat Nino and that oh so interesting black cat.

“Oh.” When the little word popped out of her mouth, it all she could do to not slap herself. She was staring, practically ogling.

Alya and Nino looked entirely too amused for their own good.

Maybe she could slap them instead.

“Mr. Noir here wanted to wait for you,” Alya said, leaning her hip against the bar with a grin.

Chat Noir stood up from the stool quickly. “I was wondering if maybe I could walk you home.” And there was that unsureness in his voice again.

She shifted her purse on her arm, very self-conscious all of the sudden. “Well, I…” Her eyes bounced from Alya to Nino.

“It's really not such a great idea for you to be walking home alone right now.” Nino offered.

“It’s just a few blocks, to the nearest intersection. Then I taxi.” Marinette said, looking back at Chat Noir.

“I will walk you wherever you need to go.” He said, smiling politely.

Marinette fiddled with the knot of her coat tie. “Well, I have to finish closing up, so--”

“We’ll take care of that!” Alya said brightly and came over to Marinette. She leaned over the bar and held her hand out for the keys. Then her voice dropped low, whispering so the boys couldn’t hear, “if you really don’t want to, just say the word.”

Marinette looked at her best friend, with her open expression and understanding and then at Nino, who sat at the bar looking completely relaxed.

She was being silly. This man was a close friend of Nino’s and Alya seemed to trust him well enough, which spoke volumes in and of itself. Then there was Chat Noir himself. He hadn’t been anything other than polite, even in his blatant flirtations. And he’d defended someone he barely knew. Defended one of her friends.

With a small sigh, Marinette shook her head and handed the keys over to Alya who grinned in response.

“That would be great, thank you.” She turned to smile at him.

The grin that burst onto his face made her want to giggle, but she contained herself.

“Alright then, you two run along, we’ll finish up here,” Nino said.

Chat Noir crossed over to her and offered his bent elbow, “My Lady?”

Marinette hesitated only a split second before she slipped her arm through his and let her hand rest on his upper arm. “Thanks, Alya, Nino. You two be safe.” She said looking over her shoulder.

Alya was still grinning, “Of course, see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight!” Nino called.

They made their way out of the club and up the stairs to the alley in silence, but she was surprised to find it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. As they stepped from the alley and onto the quiet neighborhood street, Chat Noir finally spoke.

“I want to apologize.” He said, his gaze aimed straight ahead.

Marinette peered up at him, her brow furrowing, “whatever for?”

“For making you feel uncomfortable. I feel like maybe I went a bit too far tonight.”

“Too far…?” She trailed off trying to grab context out of the air and when she finally grasped it she found herself staring at him with a bit of wonder, “For some harmless flirting?” She was too surprised to be embarrassed. This was the first time in her life a man had tried to apologize to her for flirting. Maybe the first time in the history of the world.

He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, “well, I wouldn’t call it harmless if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No!” She blurted, causing him to look down at her in alarm. She cleared her throat. “No,” she amended, her voice softer, “You didn’t go too far. Trust me.” She looked up at him a smirk, “You would have known right away if you’d gone too far.”

As if suddenly remembering the weapon she brandished just last night, Chat Noir glanced down towards her legs. “Fair point.”

“Besides,” she said, looking away from him, “I wasn’t uncomfortable, per se, I was just…” she chewed on her lip a bit. “...flattered.”

His eyebrows raised, “really?”

She bumped her hip into his playfully, “yes.” She said, still avoiding eye contact.

“Cat puns and all?” His expression was slowly returning to that grin that was so feline.

She pursed her lips, “could probably do with less of those.”

“Aw, but they’re purr-haps the best part.”

Marinette finally looked back at him, he was leaning towards her, but she just gave him a flat look and placed one finger on his masked nose and pushed him back gently. “That would be your opinion wouldn’t it?” She smiled playfully.

He clicked his tongue. “Hrm. I think I’ve had enough of opinions for one day.” He frowned slightly.

They both came to a stop on the corner of a busier intersection. Even in the middle of the night multiple cars and taxis were rolling by. The lights of downtown filtered through the buildings and down the streets around them.

“Thank you,” she said, “for standing up for Paint. You didn’t have to do that.”

He tilted his head to the side, “yes, I did. That’s my responsibility as a decent human. That’s everyone’s responsibility. No one deserves to be treated like that.”

Her expression softened even more and she smiled, “still, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His voice had become quieter. Marinette found she couldn’t quite break his eye contact. She had the very distinct feeling he was searching her, looking for something, and she had the very distinct feeling she was doing the same to him.

Somewhere on the street, a car honked and her eyes jumped away from his. “W-Well,” she started, “I better hurry home.” She slipped her hand from around his arm and stepped towards the curve, waving it to hail a taxi.

She turned back towards him, his eyes were slightly widened and still staring at her. Somehow she managed to smile, though maybe it didn’t come off as easy as she would have liked, “thank you for walking me.”

That seemed to snap him out of whatever thoughts he was having, “it was my purr-leasure.” He said easily.

The cab pulled up behind Marinette as she rolled her eyes at the pun. He stepped up quickly and opened the door for her.

Marinette slid into the cab and once he was sure she was all the way in, Chat Noir leaned down, “goodnight, My Lady.” He said.

“Goodnight, Kitten.” She said with a smile.

He closed the door and the cab started to pull away. But, Marinette found herself calling for the cabbie to stop. She quickly rolled down her window and leaned out of it. He was already turned and walking in the other direction.

“Chat Noir!” She called. He stopped and turned looking surprised. “Will you visit again soon?” The question fell from her mind and to her lips before she could even grab onto it.

He paused, blinking, a bit of color sneaking from beneath the mask. Then he grinned fully at her. “With certainty, my Lady.”

“Good!” She grinned and pulled herself back into the cab, rolling up the window. The cab pulled away from the curb and finally started to carry her home.

She found it quite hard to stop smiling.

She had the cabbie drop her off a couple of streets over from the bakery. There in a shadowed alley she pulled off her mask and headpiece and placed them gently in her purse. Out of her purse, she pulled a folded black cloche hat when she pulled down over her styled hair. It was only after this was done that she headed for her home, taking the alleyways and avoiding the main road.

When she arrived at the back stoop of the small bakery, she was immediately greeted by a ball of red-brown fur.

“Tikki!” she whispered and crouched down as the dog hopped all around her in excitement. Marinette ruffled the fur on top of the dog’s head. “What are you still doing out here? Did you miss dinner time again?” She sighed and shook her head as the dog sat obediently in front of her. “It’s too cold for you to be out here. Come on, let’s go inside.” She stood back up and started for the back door, but Tikki had other ideas.

The dog grabbed gently onto the cuff of her sleeve and pulled. Marinette looked down, “Tikki, let go, you know better than that.”

But Tikki was relentless and continued tugging.

She frowned. “What is it?”

Tikki let go and let out a soft woof. Then she turned and started toward the back corner of their alleyway, where the trash cans sat in a row.

Marinette sighed, “oh, Tikki, I’m tired, I don’t have time for this.” Still, she followed her persistent dog over to the trash cans. Tikki was sniffing at something in between two of them.

“It better not be another dead rat.” She warned as she crouched down to get a better look.

It was not another dead rat.

There, huddled in the tight space between the two metal cans, sat a sleek black cat. It’s pupils blown wide and tail curled protectively around itself.

“Oh my goodness!” Marinette cried, still keeping her voice down, “you poor thing.” Tikki backed out of the space to make room and the cat seemed to calm down somewhat.

Marinette lifted her hand towards the cat, not invasively, still giving it room to bolt if it wanted too. She let her fingers hang loosely. “It’s okay.”

The cat seemed to be taking in the whole situation. Tikki, the good girl she was, was sitting back behind Marinette wagging her tail happily. The cat seemed to study Marinette for a long moment before it tentatively stretched its neck out and sniffed the air around her hand.

That’s when she caught sight of the flash of metal that hung from the cat’s neck. “Oh, you’re somebody’s baby, aren’t you?” Marinette didn’t move, “come here, it’s alright.”

Feeling a bit braver the cat finally stepped forward and let it’s nose touch her finger. Then it pushed its head into her hand, urging her to scratch behind its ears. She obeyed the command, smiling, “well aren’t you sweet, here, why don’t you come inside with me. We’ll rustle you up some grub.” She carefully ran her hand along the cat’s back and then moved to make it clear she was going to pick him up. When he didn’t resist, she wrapped her hands around him and carefully pulled him into her arms. He started purring instantly.

“Now,” Marinette said, standing up and starting towards the back door, Tikki at her heels, “let’s see just who you are.”

She scratched under the cat’s chin before picking up the metal tag around its neck. She read the inscription.

“Plagg?” She looked at the cat, whose green eyes stared at her curiously. “What a funny little name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, you might have started to notice that my love square will play out a bit differently...;)
> 
>  **Head Cannon:** Adrien harbors some of his father's cold and calculating verbal destroying abilities somewhere inside him and only unleashes them onto the most foulest of creatures. He would slay on the debate team. Fight me. 
> 
> **Some Historical Notes:**  
>  \- General Disclaimer - I AM NOT A HISTORIAN. I try to be as accurate as I can and I do research , but don't be surprised if you catch me bending history to my will.  
> \- [Jow-Ga](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jow-Ga_Kung_Fu) is a real thing. I was looking for a newer form of Chinese martial arts around the time period. However, I proclaim NO EXPERTISE on this or any martial arts. So don't expect it, haha.  
> \- [Anti-German Sentiments](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anti-German_sentiment#United_States) were something that happened in the United States during the WWI and WWII. (Similar to, but not quite as extreme, as anti-Japanese sentiments after Pearl Harbor.) 
> 
> As always, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING. I could cry, I really could. Y'all make me so happy. If you liked it please let me know with a little kudos or even a comment (I'll even just take a row of exclamation points!!) Responses fuel my creative juices to the max, so let me know what you thought!
> 
> Or you can hit me up on my [tumblr.](http://seajaywrite.tumblr.com/) I often post progress updates and I post there as soon as the chapter is up AND I'm always looking for more friends! :D


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeeeeeeey guuuuuys...
> 
> What's up? How's life? How was the last half of 2016? 
> 
> Wait, don't answer that. 
> 
> So, yeah, I'm really sorry about how long this update took. But if I can just be real for a moment, this is kind of what my writing life is like, I'm sporadic, but when I do write it's PROLIFIC - as you can see by yet another 12k word chapter. But I am very sorry and I hate to keep y'all waiting and I hope you're still interested in what I have to offer and I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter Three

It was the warm touch of early morning sun across her eyelids that woke Alya. Making a lazy path across her room, it slunk onto her bed and across a tangle of limbs to finally reach her peaceful face. With a mumble of protest, she pouted and scrunched up her nose. She snuggled closer to the warm body curled around her and buried her face away from the offending light. 

A different noise of protest sounded in the quiet room and Alya’s eyes snapped open. 

_Wait a second._

She took in the smooth skin that filled her field of vision. 

_Aw shit, not again._

Rolling over and covering her eyes, Alya groaned. 

“Nino,” her free hand shoved his cheek. 

He huffed in response. 

“NINO. Wake up,” she said more forcefully. 

Finally opening his eyes and sitting up, Nino looked down at Alya, “well, well, we meet again.” 

Alya let her hand fall from her eyes and frowned up at the man who was wagging his eyebrows at her. She groaned again and chucked a pillow in his face. 

“I cannot believe you got me into bed _again_ ,” she said.

“Me?!” Nino chucked the pillow back at her, “if I remember correctly, and I know I do because we both only had two drinks last night, _you_ invited _me_ over.” 

“You should have known to say no!” She sat up frowning at him. 

“I did say no!”

She put her hands on her hips, “well, then how did we end up here?”

“Stop acting like two martinis gave you memory loss, you know exactly how we ended up here. You wouldn’t stop coming on to me!” 

Crossing her arms she turned away, “just because you can’t resist my insistence that you should come over doesn’t mean you should listen to me.” 

“That’s just the problem. It’s not that I _can’t_ resist you it’s that I _don’t want to_ resist you. We were both in our right minds. I asked you ten times if you were sure and your final response was to climb onto my lap and plant those lovely lips of yours on mine. You wanted to, I wanted to. I don’t know what you want from me,” he sighed and flopped back onto the mattress. 

“Whatever, Nino,” she muttered. Climbing out of the bed, she walked over to her dresser and pulled on her purple silk robe, tying the sash at her hip. Sitting down in the rickety chair at her nightstand she started to remove makeup that hadn’t been removed the night before. 

Alya's room was small. There was barely room for a dresser, a chest of drawers, and a bed. She rented the room for a very fair price from a no-nonsense woman named Mrs. Gladys who was fond of rules and very fond of them not being broken. Mrs. Gladys only rented rooms to young ladies and she did not tolerate any fraternizing. Her girls, as she called them, were to hold respectable jobs, lead respectable lives and have a respectable dress to wear to church on Sundays. Alya had gotten away with breaking the rules by leading what looked like a respectable life. By day, she worked at the nearby fabric factory along with most of the other girls in the building, she came home at a respectable hour and wore a very modest, respectable dress to church on Sundays. At night, she quietly slipped through her window and down the fire escape, her fox mask in tow. 

As far as Ms. Glayds knew Alya was the poster child for respectability, but there had been some close calls. The last time Nino had ended up in her bed she’d almost lost her room when Mrs. Gladys made a surprise visit and Nino had almost lost his legs when Alya shoved him out of the window and onto the fire escape. 

“Alya, I’m sorry,” he said. 

She looked at Nino’s reflection in her mirror. He was sitting on her bed, the sheets pooling around his hips. Her eyes lingered there for a second too long before she looked back up at his face. He looked rather dejected, "I don’t ever want to take advantage of you.” 

Heaving a heavy sigh, she put down the damp washcloth she was using to remove her foundation, “you’re not taking advantage of me, Nino.” She turned around to face him, “if anything I’m taking advantage of you.” 

Nino shook his head, “it’s not like it’s something I don’t want. I just…” he leaned back on his hands and looked up at the cracked ceiling, “...I do _not_ understand why you’re so into me in the moment, but the next morning, it’s like you regret everything.” He cringed, “it doesn’t feel so nice, you know?” He looked back at her. 

Alya bit her lip and untied and re-tied her robe’s belt, “I don’t regret it.” 

“You sure act like it,” he frowned. 

She stood up and walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, “I don’t, I really don’t. I really like you, Nino. I really like spending time with you.” 

He looked even more confused, “then what? What’s the problem? I have made it pretty clear that I like you. You just made it clear you like me. What’s the issue?” 

“Well, you _know_ I can’t be bringing you back here all the time,” she said.

The look on his face clearly said he wasn’t taking that reason, “then I’ll take you back to my place. Problem solved.” 

Alya sighed and gave Nino a helpless kind of look. 

He reached out and pulled her hands into his own, “I can't help you solve this little problem you have if you’re not honest with me about the issue here. If it’s not me if it’s not your landlady, then what is it?” 

To be fair, this was all completely new to her. Alya had always been one with a fiery independent streak. She’d been the only girl in her family for the majority of her life until the triplets were born. When she was a child, she was surrounded by doting fathers and brothers. Someone was always holding out their hand to her and for some inexplicable reason, she always found it hard to reach out and grab it. Opening up to people, asking for help - those were always things that were hard for her. It was almost like she wanted to prove something, even though she knew no one needed proof that she could do anything on her own. Marinette had been the first person to crawl under her skin. Marinette had been one of the first people, besides her parents, to see her cry.

Looking down at her hand in Nino’s she felt an unwanted and unexplainable fear bubbling within her. The same fear that always simmered just beneath the surface every time she looked at Nino. Every time he flirted with her. Every time he touched her. 

She swallowed. “Nino, I--” 

There was a sharp knock on the door that sent them both jumping apart. 

“Alya?” The voice was not Mrs. Gladys, but definitely her brother, Junior. 

Alya’s eyes widened, “oh shit!” She cursed and launched herself at Nino, “hide!” She whispered. Crashing into Nino’s bare chest she sent him toppling backward off the bed. He cried out as his backside hit the hard wooden floor. Alya hissed at him to be quiet. 

But her efforts and Nino’s pain were all in vein. The door of her room banged open and Junior, Jean and Peter all came barreling into the room bodies poised to help their sister who sure had sounded in distress. 

Instead what they saw was Alya spread out across her bed on her stomach with her arms outstretched and a very naked Nino splayed across the floor on the other side.

Alya stared wide-eyed over her shoulder at her three brothers. Her brothers stared back, equally bug-eyed. 

Nino slowly reached up and yanked a pillow off the bed to cover himself. 

Junior was the first to break the silence with a snort that quickly turned into a full bout of laughter. 

Narrowing her eyes Alya frowned, sometimes she wished Ms. Gladys’ ‘no boys’ policy included family members, “come off it and close the door!” 

Peter was snickering, “you’re the one who left it unlocked for anyone to waltz in,” but he reached behind him and pulled her door closed. 

“You need these, Nino?” Jean picked up a pair of brown trousers off the floor and held them up. 

“Oh, give me those!” Alya growled as she pulled herself up off the bed and charged over to her younger brother and yanked them out of his hand. She tossed them over to Nino who caught them. He then did an awkward shuffle, pillow held protectively in front of him, to Alya’s folding screen in the corner.

Jean had quite the self-satisfied grin on his face, “you know Mama’s gonna kill you, right?” 

“No, she’s not and you know why?” Alya grabbed the collar of her little brother’s shirt and dragged him forward so that her scowling face was right in his suddenly panicked one, “because if you tell her I will throttle you before she can even lay a hand on me. You got it?”

“Relax, Sis, relax, I was just yankin’ your chain,” Jean laughed, albeit nervously. 

Alya huffed, but released her grip on him, “what are you all doing here?” She asked, planting her hands on her hips. 

“To talk about Saturday,” Junior answered, putting his hands in his pockets. “Everything is ready, we just needed to confirm that everything is together over here too.” 

She blinked, “yeah, Alix, Kim and I are going on Saturday. We’ll meet you there, but we already talked about this at the farm. Did you really have to come all the way here to confirm?” 

Nino came out from behind the folding screen, pillow no longer needed, and came to stand next to Alya, “maybe they just came to bust us.” 

“No,” Junior started, “that was just a nice little extra. Thanks for the dirt on our sister, by the way.” 

Her eyes exploded into flames, but Junior seemed entirely unfazed. 

“Actually,” Peter started before Alya’s claws could shred his brother to pieces, “there’s something else - we’ve stumbled across a Moretti warehouse.” 

A different kind of flame sparked up in her eyes, “what?” 

“I heard some chatter about a place on the docks,” Peter said. “Apparently, they’re holding some items of interest there.” 

“Really,” she said. “How sure are we about this chatter?” 

“Not one hundred percent which is why we’re going to do a little research on Sunday night. It’s supposed to be a quiet night around the area,” Peter said. 

Nino looked from the brothers to Alya, frowning slightly, “are you sure that’s a good idea. I mean last time…”

“Last time we weren’t prepared,” Jean said. He was no longer grinning. His arms were crossed, his fingers clenching his arms tightly, “they got the jump on James.” 

“If we want to send a message that we’re not going to just take this lying down then we have to have a little retaliation,” Junior said. 

Peter nodded, “besides, we aren’t just going in there guns blazing, Sunday night is just to watch. To take note. We lost a good amount of product to them, it’s only logical we get back what we lost.” 

Alya was quiet for a moment, her gaze trained on a warped section of her wood flooring, then she said, “have you talked to Papa about this yet?” 

“No, not yet, we just received the information before we came here,” Peter said. 

“And where did this information come from exactly?” Alya asked. 

“A buddy of mine,” Jean answered, “he works nights at the docks.” 

She raised an eyebrow, “you have buddies in Chicago?” 

Jean rolled his eyes, “he went to school with me and moved here, what’s with all the questions?” 

She frowned, “look, we have to be careful, the Morettis have their fingers in too many pots. We can’t afford to trust so readily.” 

“I agree,” Junior said, “but I still think it’s worth scoping out.” 

Alya sighed and then glanced over at Nino who shrugged. She looked back at her brothers, “okay, I’ll talk to Mari. Nothing is set in stone until I clear this with her and you clear it with Papa,” 

Junior nodded, “you got it,” he slipped his hands into his pockets. “Well, we were going to go grab some breakfast before we head back, would you two like to join us, or should we...give you two some time?” His grin returned full force. Jean and Peter snickered. 

The trio was chased from their sister’s room by a barrage of clothes, shoes and various other material possessions. 

>> = <<

“He was just huddled by the trashcans?” Sabine Cheng was crouched next to her daughter who sat at their old kitchen table. She had closely cropped dark hair and kind eyes, at one time her simple button down dress had been a bright and cheery blue with tiny white flowers scattered across its surface. It was a well-worn and well-loved dress that had faded and frayed from too many washes. 

Marinette watched as her mother held out her hand to Plagg, waiting for permission to pet him. She made a mental note to find some fabric to make her mother a new dress. 

“Yeah, Tikki found him.” Plagg sniffed carefully at Sabine’s hand and then pressed his whiskers into it. Sabine gave him a nice scratch along his neck. “His tag says his name is Plagg. It has an address, too.” 

Sabine looked up at Marinette and quirked an eyebrow, “Plagg? Interesting name...” Plagg started to purr as Sabine rubbed his ears, "he sure is sweet, though.” 

“He is, slept right with me all night and he gets along with Tikki surprisingly well,” she smiled. “I was planning on taking him back today, but the address is clear across the city. So, I was hoping I could borrow the truck.” 

Sabine stood up and went to the small sink to wash her hands, plagg gave a small mew of protest, “well, you’ll have to ask your father, not sure if there are any deliveries we have to make today.” 

“Ask me what now?” The full, warm, booming voice of Tom Dupain came down from the top of the stairs as Marinette heard him begin to make his slow and careful descent. 

“We have a surprise guest, dear,” Sabine said as she wiped her now clean hands on a towel. 

“Do we now?” He reached the bottom step and slowly made his way towards his chair at the kitchen table, cane tapping before each of his steps. Slowly he eased himself into his chair, “it wouldn’t happen to be a strapping young man come to whisk my beloved daughter away now would it?” 

Marinette laughed, “never, Papa. It is, however, a boy. Cup your hands.” 

Tom looked over at his daughter's voice, eyebrows raising in interest, but he did as he was instructed. She stood up from her chair and carefully deposited Plagg into his massive hands. Plagg peered up at the large man. 

Tom chuckled, “oh my, where ever did such a furry guest come from?” 

“The trash actually,” Marinette giggled. 

“Ah, a tomcat, I think we’ll get along just fine!” He grinned as he rubbed his thumb across Plagg’s back. 

Marinette rolled her eyes and shook her head. She crouched down next to his chair and scratched Plagg’s head. 

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he grinned again. “What color is he?” 

Marinette looked up at Tom, who although was looking down at Plagg in his hands, was not seeing him. 

A dull, but familiar tightening thrummed through Marinette’s chest. 

Even though the scars had faded considerably, they were still a hard for Marinette to take in each time. Tom Dupain’s eyes were fused shut permanently and the skin around his eyes and brow would be forever marred and twisted into something it was never meant to be. She didn’t cringe away from the scars because of the way they had changed her father’s face, but because of the memories they held for her and her family. 

She glanced away and back at Plagg, “pitch black, and sleek as a brand new car.” 

Tom’s fingers reached the collar, “and not a tomcat at all it would seem.” 

“Nope, that’s what I wanted to ask you, can I borrow the truck to take him home? I’m sure someone has to be very worried about the little guy.” 

Sabine carried three plates full of eggs and toast over to the table, “if there are any deliveries, maybe she can take them on her way?” 

“I don’t think there is anything this morning, but just have it back by the afternoon so we can make our run of bread to the bistro,” Tom lifted Plagg up and placed him gently on the ground giving him a bit of a pat. 

“Great, thank you, Papa. I’ll have it back in time,” Marinette said. 

Sabine took a sip from her teacup and then looked up, “so, how are things at the fabric factory, Marinette?” 

Marinette was just about to take a bite of her toast and froze. 

_That question came out of nowhere._

Why is she asking?!

Why today?!

What does she know?!

“It’s great!” Marinette answered, maybe a bit too enthusiastically.

Sabine and Tom both looked at their daughter with raised eyebrows, “really? Great?” Sabine asked. 

“Um…” Marinette stabbed some eggs with her fork, “yeah! I mean, it’s great practice, my hand stitching is getting so much faster. I honestly think I’m a least twice as fast now. Which is obviously great for doing alterations.” 

Sabine blinked, “oh, I see. That is good then.” 

“Yeah!” She shoved the fork full of eggs into her mouth. 

“I still think you shouldn’t be taking so many night shifts there. I don’t like you out after dark. I don’t like you having to work so much,” Tom said, frowning a bit. 

Marinette swallowed the eggs, “I know, Papa, but we need the money.” 

This was not a fact that Tom could argue against. Marinette’s night job and her alterations had kept the bakery afloat. Things were better now than they had been, but her support was still invaluable. He sighed heavily. 

She covered her father’s hand with her own, “don’t worry, like I just said, it’s good for me! It’s helping me get better! I like the work, I promise.” 

Tom squeezed her hand and released it, “the moment it becomes too much, you tell us. Promise?” 

“The moment it does, promise,” she answered, even though all three of them knew that moment would never come, no matter how miserable Marinette might get. 

But in saying that everything was great, she didn’t lie, despite recent events and growing danger, she loved the Kwami Club. She loved everyone she worked with, she loved the atmosphere, she loved the patrons. 

A pair of bright green eyes flashed in her mind. 

Marinette ducked her head and quickly shoveled the rest of her breakfast into her mouth in an effort to conceal the blush blooming up her neck and creeping onto her cheeks. 

>> = <<

Adrien puffed out his cheeks, arms crossed and brow furrowed he stood in the middle of his room. 

_Where is that cat?_

Despite feeling like he was flying with visions of a pretty lady dancing through his head when he came home the night before, he couldn’t help but start to really worry when he still couldn’t find Plagg. In the morning he’d asked Nathalie, but she couldn’t care less about his 'mangy pet' who in her eyes only covered everything in black fur. So, Adrien had spent most of his morning, as tired as he was, searching every nook and corner of every room the house had to offer, which was a lot. He’d even searched the garden, Plagg had on occasion wandered from the house and into the gardens, but he had never roamed beyond the walls. 

Adrien was beginning to fear the worst. 

However, there was one last place he had not looked. 

His lips formed a grim line and he left his room. 

Voices drifted from his father’s office at the end of the hall before Adrien even made it halfway towards the door. He couldn’t pick out any exact words, but he clearly recognized two separate voices, he almost decided to just turn around, but the doors to his father’s office were wide open.

_That’s unusual._

Walking to the threshold Adrien peered into the room. 

Any happiness left from the night before, any worry for Plagg was ripped away from him in an instant. 

Gabriel was sitting behind his massive mahogany desk and when Adrien appeared in the doorway his cold eyes turned on him. He was not alone.

In the world, there are certain individuals who carry with them such a raw power that they unsettle nerves by merely standing in the same room. These individuals can be from any manner or walk of life, it's not taught, it's bred. And it's only a fool that would try to contend against these individuals. And not even a fool ever makes that mistake twice. 

Standing by the window was one such man. In his presence, Adrien’s gut always filled with slippery black ink. Goosebumps always followed in the wake of his gaze. The hairs on Adrien’s neck always stood at attention. 

“Grandfather,” Adrien breathed.

The man turned to regard his grandson with eyes such a dark brown they looked black in certain lighting. And like the color black, they swallowed any light they drank in, never returning it. His hair was black with streaks of gray threading through it and his mustache was trim and well kept. He wasn’t thin, he wasn’t heavy, he was broad and tall. Intimidating, even as wrinkles etched themselves deeper into his face. He bore no resemblance to Gabriel and for good reason. This man was his mother’s father. 

The only link Adrien had left to her. 

“Adrien,” his expression was completely still and unreadable. His eyes blank and devoid of anything. 

“It’s...it’s been a long time,” Adrien managed to choke out. 

“Indeed it has. I am here to discuss some matters with your father,” he slid his eyes over to Gabriel, whose gaze was still planted on his son. “However, some of these matters involve you,” he flicked his dark gaze back on Adrien. 

Adrien swallowed, “I see…” he couldn’t manage much more because he honestly didn’t want to find out what ‘matters’ his grandfather wanted to discuss with him. His preference would be to stride right out of the room, downstairs and out into the sunshine. Of course, that wasn’t an option, so instead Adrien fell into defense, the tendons in his neck tightening, and waited. 

“Gabriel has informed me that you have been spending your nights out and about...cavorting with people that are...not of our ilk.” 

Adrien bristled, the goosebumps continued along his arms, but for an entirely different reason. He clenched his jaw. 

His grandfather picked up on this shift and it was clear he noted the information. He sniffed, “I will not permit any grandson of mine to behave in such ways, or to keep such _low_ company.” 

This time his fists clenched and he narrowed his eyes. The only thing that reigned his mouth in was the gaze his father continued to pin him with. It was no longer cold, it was flashing a warning, maybe even some concern. 

“Unless,” his grandfather sniffed, raising his eyebrows as he noted Adrien’s whitened knuckles, “you agree to our terms.” At this he turned to Gabriel, effectively handing him the rest of the conversation. If you could even label it a conversation. 

Gabriel sat back in his chair, lacing his fingers together, “I will allow you to have these nights. I will even look past your less than desirable company.” Gabriel frowned slightly.

Adrien’s posture didn’t relax. 

“However, your days belong to me. You will meet every appointment I set, you will attend every lesson I schedule, you will not have any more outbursts about which projects you participate in. Your nightly activities will not interfere with your days. And even at night, you will conduct yourself in a manner befit of your position.”

Questions clambered into Adrien’s head, they climbed over each other, desperate for his attention. But he simply couldn’t grasp the situation or these terms. Everything about this was completely out of alignment with his typical reality and somehow in alignment at the same time. 

He could feel his grandfather’s eyes on him as he stared back at his father. Gabriel leveled his son with a look that was trying to convey something, but Adrien couldn’t quite decipher it. Or chose not to try.

“Do you understand, Adrien?” Gabriel asked. 

_No._

“...yes.” 

“Do you agree?” 

Adrien knew he was walking into something he’d regret. He could feel it deep in his gut. He knew it, yet...

This was the first time a sliver of freedom had been offered to him. Full nights to do what ever he wanted completely sanctioned by his father _and_ his grandfather? Unheard of. Nights to spend with his newly found friends. Nights to spend unwinding from days where he was constantly having to perform his lifelong role as 'model son'.

The perfect snare. And they knew it. 

“Yes,” Adrien said at last. 

“Good. You may go for now. You are due at the studios in two hours.” 

He nodded and turned on his heel to leave as quickly as his feet would carry him, but he was stopped by one last sentence from his grandfather. 

“Adrien, this will be my one and only warning: Do not smear my good name.” 

The words were wrapped and swaddled in such weight that Adrien could almost feel them settle on his shoulders. 

He could only manage a nod before he left the room. 

Sick. 

It was rising up from his stomach and threatening to materialize into a physical form. He made it to his room and closed the door before falling back against it. 

Everything about that ‘conversation’ was off. The alarm bells were still ringing in his head. 

But, underneath it all, rang the clear sound of freedom. 

He honestly didn’t know what he should do. He’d agreed to the terms, but maybe…

Adrien frowned and looked at the dust as it swirled itself through the light streaming through his window. 

_Maybe I should stay away from the club for awhile._

His frown deepened at the thought. 

Then, from downstairs, the doorbell chimed merrily.

Mildly curious he wandered over to the windows and gazed down at the street below.

Parked in front of the gate was a white truck with the words _'Tom & Sabine’s Bakery'_ scrawled in neat cursive done by a skilled hand.

_A bakery?_

Mild curiosity turned to full blown curiosity. Baked good in his house? Never had he seen the day. 

Adrien welcomed the distraction readily and decided to go check it out for himself. 

As he left his room and neared the stairs heard more voices, one of them definitely Nathalie’s. He reached the top step and started down them. Nathalie was talking to a young woman in the doorway, but the woman held no pastry box or bag of bread in her hands, instead, nestled in her arms was some entirely better. 

His eyes widened, “Plagg!” He raced down the rest of the stairs and rushed over to the two women. “Where on Earth did you find him? Thank you so much for bringing him home!” He realized his excitement might be a bit much, but he wasn’t sure it warranted the frozen shock on the woman’s face as she regarded him. 

She was at least a head shorter than him, her wide eyes were a deep blue, and she wore a burgundy hat pulled down over her short black hair which had curls that brushed the sides of her face in a fashionable way. A long brown coat was pulled over whatever dress she might be wearing. 

Adrien blinked and then smiled a little, rubbing the back of his neck, “sorry, I was just really worried about him.” 

The woman seemed to snap back into herself. Her eyes became decidedly closed and distant. She quickly placed Plagg into his waiting arms, despite the cat’s meows of protest. 

“You’re welcome,” she muttered and with that she turned on her heel and practically flew from his stoop. 

“H-hey…” Adrien called, “wait!” He followed her out into the crisp air. Plagg still tucked in his arms. 

She didn’t stop at his words and Adrien found himself following her around to the driver’s side of the truck. 

“Please, wait just a moment,” finally, she paused with a hand on the door handle and Adrien continued, “I’d like to do something to thank you. You have no idea how much it means that you brought him back to me.” 

She turned to him and the look she gave him caused him to falter back a step. 

It was filled with hatred.

“I want and need nothing from you,” she spat. Then she jerked the car door open and slid inside without another word. Starting up the truck she sped off as fast as the engine would take her.

Adrien watched in silence, not able to move from his spot on the street. Plagg mewed in his arms. 

>> = <<

_One Week Later_

Marinette flinched as the needle punched a small hole in the tip of her thumb. A pebble of red blood rushed to the surface in seek of oxygen and she frowned down at it before sticking the offending sight into her mouth. When was the last time she’d pricked herself so many times?

She’d been on edge all week. Waiting to hear how the shipment went today at the Saturday market, the Moretti warehouse, and to top it off crossing paths with Adrien Agreste. 

_And seeing neither hide nor hair of a certain customer for a week._

Marinette shoved that particular thought to the side, it had no business pressing itself between more important matters. Removing her thumb from her mouth she made sure it was rid of any blood before she picked the needle back up. 

A dress was splayed out across her knees and the couch in the cramped office of the club. It was made from a soft cotton fabric, pale green, simple, but still beautiful. She had known exactly what to do with it when she spotted it underneath the massive pile of random fabrics in her bedroom and she knew it would look fantastic on her mother. Returning to her work she drowned her chattering stresses out with each pull and tug of a stitch. Soon she was lost to the rhythm and her mind was blank. 

“SUCCESS!” The door of the office banged open and Marinette promptly screeched at the top of her lungs and jumped so high that she managed to tumble off the couch in that spectacular way only she could pull off. From her new vantage point on the floor, she stared up at Alya who stood with her hands planted firmly on her hips and a grin plastered on her lips.

Marinette’s reaction was so par for the course that Alya didn’t even acknowledge it. She simply kicked the door closed and plopped herself on the vanity chair, “the drop went off without a hitch, Mari, I don’t think it could have gone any better than it did!” 

Pulling herself up off the floor Marinette blinked, “it’s here? No one made you?” 

“Not a soul. I think this is going to be the perfect arrangement. The market is so busy and we transferred the booze in vegetable crates. It was a perfect clean sneak.” She grinned, “we’re fully stocked and ready to fill all those boozehound bellies!” 

Marinette finally allowed the smile to break across her face, “that’s fantastic news!” She fell back onto the couch behind her, “oh, Alya, you have no idea how much I needed good news!” She sighed happily, feeling at least some of her stress evaporating. 

Alya came over and sat next to Marinette, “always happy to brighten your day.” She grinned, “let’s celebrate tonight. Get really loosey-goosey! We have plenty of hooch to do it.” 

“Boy, could I use it,” Marinette sighed again. 

“You’re still all ruffled aren’t you?” 

She frowned and easily picked up the thread of Alya’s conversation, “it just...really threw me for a loop. I obviously wasn’t expecting to arrive at the Agreste mansion of all places.” Leaning her head back she closed her eyes, “you should see that place, Alya. It’s massive. I can’t even fathom how much it cost. And all bought with money that…” she bit her lip hard cutting herself off.

“You shouldn’t dwell on it. Look at what it’s doing to you, you’ve let it put you in a sour mood all week!” Alya stood up, “well, no more! I swear you’re going to have fun tonight if it kills you.” 

Marinette couldn’t blame Alya for the quick brush off. After her run-in with the Agreste darling, she had immediately driven to Alya’s place. Alya had listened for well over an hour while she ranted and raved. And she’d continued to listen all week, ever the patient and understanding friend, but even Marinette knew there was a limit to how much she could lament about the misfortune of seeing one of the last people she ever wanted to interact with on a personal level. And she knew she was bordering on overly dramatic about the whole incident. 

But she couldn’t shake it. It buzzed at the back of her mind in a low constant hum. 

She couldn’t stop thinking about the shock and flash of hurt on his face when she told him she didn’t want anything from the likes of him. 

_Acting like he is ignorant of everything._

Marinette could feel herself bristling again, but she swallowed it down the best she could. 

“I’m sorry, Alya, you’re right,” she opened her eyes and sat up. 

“Of course,” Alya grinned down at her and leaned forwards some, “now let’s get all gussied up and really paint the town!” 

The two friends spent the next hour or so getting themselves ready to welcome all their thirsty patrons. Shimmering dresses with daring hemlines were donned. Hair was tightly curled and set. Lips were painted in blooms of color. Masks were placed and secured with ribbons. 

Alya, the expert conversationalist she was, kept the topics purposefully light, full of easy chit-chat and jabs of friendly humor. Soon, Marinette found herself falling into her role as gracious hostess, light-hearted and warm. 

As they left the quiet and cramped walls of the office and made their way arm in arm to towards the door leading to the club, the strings of music had already begun. The happy voices of the earliest guests threading through the notes. 

“Wow, could it be?” Fox gasped as they pushed through the door and glanced up at the stage where Bubbles and the band were already drumming up a lively jazz tune. “Bubbles is early! Truly a day for celebration!” She grinned at Ladybug. 

Ladybug laughed, “I think this calls for the first round.” 

“I’ll get right on it!” She winked and slipped her arm from Ladybug’s and made her way behind the bar where she cheerfully greeted Paint. 

Leaving the bar behind, Ladybug wove her way through the thickening crowd of the club. She had her sights set on one man who was already holding court in one of the booths. 

When he caught sight of her Mr. Sole’s entire face lit up. Tonight his entourage consisted of a well-mixed batch of women and men, six in all. As she drew closer she noted they were all holding a handful of cards and chips were strewn about the table in stacks. 

Ladybug leaned against the side of the booth with her arms crossed, a look of shock on her face, “why, Mr. Sole,” she said, “you wouldn’t happen to be gambling in my establishment would you?” 

“I would never _dream_ of it, madam, this is merely a friendly game of 'Rummy',” he said as his eyes sparkled. 

“Interesting. I don’t believe I’ve ever played 'Rummy' with poker chips before. Tell me, how do they factor in?” 

Mr. Sole chuckled and his fellow guests did as well, “well if you’d like to sit down and join us I’d be glad to show you.” 

“I think I will, I’m pretty curious,” Ladybug grinned and slipped into the booth next to Mr. Sole who scooted over some. 

Fox made her way over with two martini glasses and quirked an eyebrow, “and just what is going on here?” She asked, setting Ladybug’s drink down in front of her. 

“Mr. Sole is going to teach me how to play 'Rummy' with poker chips,” Ladybug answered before taking a long sip of the martini. 

“How very interesting. I think I’d like to learn as well,” she slipped into the booth across from Ladybug.

The cards were gathered and reshuffled, no one disputing Mr. Sole’s decision to start the game anew. As the cards were dealt out once more Ladybug noticed something was different, she glanced curiously at Mr. Sole, “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen ‘Rummy’ played quite like this.” 

“It’s a new version I learned on a trip down to Texas. It’s called Texas Hold ‘Em.” 

“What were you doing down there?” Fox asked, wrinkling her nose. 

Mr. Sole grinned, “talking to some very wealthy oilmen and ranchers.Texas isn't just dust and farms, my dear.” 

“Just how many pots do you have your hands in, Mr. Sole?” Ladybug said, casting a furtive glance his way. 

He didn’t look up from his cards, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, “as many as I need to keep myself occupied.” 

Ladybug hummed a bit at that and exchanged a glance with Fox. 

She had been hoping to catch Mr. Sole alone in order to inquire just how far his influence stretched. It wasn’t hard to gather that one of the pots he had a hand in was the welfare of the Kwami Club, but Ladybug wanted to know exactly what kind of strings he was pulling to protect the little enterprise and why, after all, she didn’t exactly know who he was or what kind of business he really ran and not being privy to all the details made her nervous. 

But that wasn’t what tonight was for, tonight was about celebrating, relaxing and enjoying herself, so she mentally shook off her musings and knocked back the rest of her martini with gusto. Fox gave her a wide grin at that and did the same. 

The evening rolled on in a splendid fashion, Mr. Sole and his compatriots were a good humored bunch and the more drinks that were downed the more boisterous and loud the group became. The game of Texas Hold ‘Em, which started out gambling with money, had quickly devolved into a half-assed game where people lost track of their chips, did things against the rules on purpose and just generally gave up on making the game a legitimate one entirely. At some point losers of hands begun to have to pay up in actions and deeds. People were made to stealthy exchange masks without revealing identities, play pranks on other guests, buy rounds for the table and place innocent kisses on lips. 

Two hours later and on her third drink, Ladybug felt that familiar fuzzy blanket that only three martinis can provide settle across her body. She relaxed back against the booth and her smiles and chatter came easy and relaxed. Her voice and laughter carried across the bar and her inhibitions were sorely compromised. Which is probably why she didn’t completely shy away from the devilish glint in Fox’s eye when she lost the current hand. 

“Well!” Fox exclaimed leaning across the table to look at the absolutely atrocious hand Ladybug had laid down, “I have the perfect payment in mind!” 

Ladybug met the glint in Fox’s eye with suspicion, “Fox…” she said with a half warning. 

“As most of you lovely folks know, our Ladybug is quite the accomplished dancer, especially when it comes to the Charleston.”

A round of claps and whoops and cheers followed. 

“So I propose that she must put on a nifty little show for us - solo!” 

The cheers were louder and joined by encouragements. 

Ladybug sighed, “fine, fine! I’ll do it!” She laughed a little and started to stand up. A part of her wondered why Fox thought this would be something she’d be opposed to. She loved dancing, somehow when she was dancing it was one of the only times she wasn’t a complete klutz. 

“On _that_ table,” came Fox’s triumphant voice as she pointed to the center most table in the room, currently surrounded by a group of rambunctious men. 

She paused halfway out of the booth and her eyes widened, “you must have a death wish for me!”

Yes, she wasn’t a complete klutz while dancing, but doing the _Charleston_ on a _table_?

“Oh, don’t be such a wet blanket, I’m sure those gentlemen over there would happily catch you, should you fall.” 

Fox grinned and stood up from the table, linking her arm through Ladybug’s and pulling her through the crowd and to the round table the men were gathered around. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen!” Fox called sweetly, “may we borrow your table for just a teensy bit of time? I promise you won’t regret it.” 

The men all turned to look at the two women that had joined them, one short, older man leaned forwards, “by all means, ladies, but may we inquire what for?” 

Fox gave a wink, “oh, just a little show!” At that, the men did not hesitate to step back from the table as Fox dragged a chair forwards, “up you go, doll!” She said pulling Ladybug up to the chair. 

Ladybug shot her a glare, “I cannot believe you.”

“Oh shush and go get your wiggle on!” She gave a little push and Ladybug sighed heavily, resigned to her fate. 

“Bubbles!” Fox called over the crowd just as a song trailed off, “strike up that [Static Strut](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AGQH5emYZuA)!” Bubbles looked over in the direction to where the girls were standing. He raised an eyebrow but signaled his band to start up the electric tune. 

As the beginning notes thrummed through the air one gentleman reached out a hand which Ladybug took gratefully as she stepped onto the table which had been quickly cleared of all drinks and napkins. 

Pausing for a moment on top to gain a sense of balance and wait for the rhythm to pick up Ladybug heaved a deep breath as whistles and cheers bounced around the crowd. 

The note she had been waiting for was struck and she threw one hand in the air and her feet started to glide. Her beginning movements were shaky as she moved uneasily over the top of the table, keeping her kicks somewhat limited. But as the rhythm deepened and the crowd began to cheer her on she loosened up and forced herself to imagine she was dancing on a solid floor. 

Soon her feet were kicking and sliding across the wooden tabletop in easy wide arcs, her hands and arms swinging like pendulums in time with Nino’s piano. She was twisting and turning, utilizing the full surface area of the table. A minute into the song and she was completely lost in her performance, playing to the crowd with winks, grins, and blown kisses as they cheered. Gasps and cries of surprise came as she kicked her legs out and spun around in a move that looked like it would surely send her flying off the table, but she landed perfectly, the table wobbling slightly. Now facing the stage she continued to bounce to the rhythm, blowing a kiss to Bubbles and the band.

It was then, as her back faced the entrance to the club and she was wiggling and shaking her hips with abandon, that Chat Noir strolled in. The tassels and rhinestones that adorned her red and black dress swished and flashed with each of her movements. Wide swathes of her thighs were displayed as the already daringly short dress rode up further with each kick. 

Suffice to say that Chat didn’t make it very far into the room once his eyes landed on her. 

Twisting back around and swinging her arms up above her, Ladybug gave the crowd a quick scan until her eyes snagged on a pair of black cat ears. 

Chat was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes filled with what one could possibly describe as humorous awe. 

Her eyes widened and she felt her skin flood with a new breath of color that had nothing to do with martinis or dancing. She faltered one step that sent her tipping to the side and Chat’s eyes blew wide with alarm as he took a few hurried steps forward. But, she regained her balance and wits on her own and played the misstep off as just another daring move. 

His eyes never left her as she continued to shimmy and wiggle her way through the last minute of the song. A surge of confidence fueled by adrenaline, gin and the cheers of the patrons around caused her to lock eyes with Chat and a full grin spread across her ruby red lips. Spinning around in one last flashy move she landed firmly on her feet facing the band once more with one hand thrust high in the air. As the last chord was struck she looked over her shoulder and sent a flirty wink right at Chat. 

It was his turn to be flooded with color. 

The crowd exploded in jovial applause, high whistles shooting from one end of the room to the other. Ladybug dropped her hand and turned back around to bow comically for the crowd, before throwing a hand back towards the stage in acknowledgment of the band. When she looked back towards the crowd, she found Chat standing just to the side of the table, one hand offered up to her. 

All at once that wave of overconfidence abandoned her and she found herself blushing again as she took his hand and carefully stepped down from her impromptu stage. 

“Hi,” she said quietly as the crowd dispersed back to their own respective tables and conversations. 

Hand still in his grasp, Chat lifted it to his lips and brushed them across her knuckles, “hi.” He echoed back.

Ladybug’s attempt to form an appropriate next response failed spectacularly and she berated herself for acting like some thirteen-year-old schoolgirl. 

By all accounts, the way Chat greeted her each time, the way he talked her and acted around her should be considered smarmy and cheesy and just all around eye-roll worthy. But it just wasn’t. There was a genuineness to it that filled every part of her with a pleasant warmness. He wasn’t putting on a show, he wasn’t trying to manipulate her into liking him, he was simply treating her how he thought she should be.

Chat let her hand go and smiled warmly at her, he started to say something when he was cut off. 

“Talk about a show!” Fox squealed pushing through the crowd and throwing an arm around Ladybug, “I’ll never understand how you can break two cases of glassware in one hour and turn around and dance like that on top of a wobbly table. You’re an enigma.” 

Before Ladybug could respond Fox had spotted Chat and her grin widened, “you strolled in with impeccable timing. What did you think about her little show?” Her eyebrows wiggled in an overtly suggestive way that made Ladybug cringe.

“I thought it was the cat’s meow,” his winked at Ladybug. 

Now that did get her to roll her eyes, but she felt herself relax. She smiled, “why, thank you, glad I could be of entertainment.” 

“You always are, my Lady, and I envy your dancing talents.” 

Ladybug laughed outright, “I’d hardly call it a talent, just something I enjoy.” 

“Do you like to dance, Mr. Noir?” Fox asked. Ladybug could practically see a plan forming in Fox's mind. 

“I do, but unfortunately I’m only capable of the more classic styles,” he said with some bashfulness. 

Fox’s eyebrows arched in interest, “you don’t know how to Charleston?” 

He splayed his hands and shook his head, “I’m afraid I come from a rather stuffy background.” 

“I can teach you!” The words came barreling out of Ladybug’s mouth without paying heed to her mind. Her eyes widened slightly at the lack of control over her own mouth. 

Then she remembered the several martinis she’d consumed. 

Fox grinned like she’d just caught a chicken. Ladybug couldn’t have played more perfectly into her set up.

Chat’s eyes glittered, “I would absolutely love that.” 

He offered her his arm.

“Have fun, kids!” Fox called as she walked away to go help Paint at the bar.

Ladybug slipped her arm through his. _Just play it cool, this isn't a big deal._ Clearing her throat a little she looked up at Chat, “okay, I assume you know how to waltz? Fox-trot?” Ladybug asked as they approached the dance floor where Nino was already kicking up a new tune. 

Chat looked down at her, “I do.” 

“Well,” she said when they stepped onto the dance floor, “same basic forward and backward steps, but with a little more jazz.” 

She turned so she was side by side with him, “you start with your left foot and step forward and then you bring your right foot around to the front and tap the floor.” She demonstrated and Chat copied her. “Now you bright your right foot back to its original position and step back with your left and tap,” Chat mimicked her movements again. “And you just keep doing that,” she continued to step forward and tap and back and tap and forward and tap and back and tap and Chat continued along with her, his movements a bit stiff.

“Relax your body,” she said as they continued the steps, “the charleston is all about ease and looseness. The waltz and the foxtrot are all about poise, the charleston is everything but poise.” 

“I like the sound of that,” Chat grinned and tried to roll his shoulders and let his arms swing.

Nodding as she assessed the change she smiled, “good, better! And now, we need to add in the swivel.” 

Chat raised an eyebrow, “from the way you dance I assumed the Charleston was more of a make it up as you go dance.” 

She stopped moving and made a tutting motion at him, giving a mock serious expression, “au contraire Mr. Noir, the Charleston has its staple steps just like any respectable dance.” She smiled again, “however, you are right, there is a level of improvisation that goes into it. But one must learn the rules before one breaks them.” 

“It seems I still have much to learn, my Lady. Luckily, I’m in good hands,” he winked.

She tried to ignore the pleasant warmth that spread through her, “alright, the swivel, watch and learn, Kitten.” 

Ladybug popped up on the balls of her feet and began to swing her heels in and out quickly and from there she showed Chat how to incorporate the swivel into the basic forward-tap step. Within minutes they were both doing the full Charleston side-by-side, feet swinging in and out and arms swinging right along. 

“Okay, perfect, I think you’ve got it.” She stopped and faced him, “and now we do it together. So, it's the same basic arm position as the waltz and fox-trot, but you--” 

“So like this,” Chat cut her off and slipped one arm around her, his hand resting gently on her upper back and then slipping his other hand into her’s. He pulled her closer.

Ladybug swallowed, “yes, but,” she placed her free hand on his shoulder and squeezed it slightly, “remember, relax your body, let your arms drop.”

“Got it,” Chat dropped his shoulders and elbows into a more relaxed stance.

“Better,” they waited for a beat or two and then began to dance. They danced for several songs, Ladybug showing Chat a few different moves, turns and twists. There were a few trips and slips here and there that had them both laughing and by the end of the third song they both had a fine sheen of sweat on their brows and stitches in their sides. A silent glance agreed that it was time for a break. 

She slipped her arm through his and glanced up at him, “I think it’s high time you have a drink.” 

“I think that’s a _purr-fectly_ great idea.” 

He received a good-natured roll of her eyes and she pulled him through the crowd to the bar. They managed to squeeze into a couple of seats at the very end near the stage, almost hidden from view. Paint was quick to place two drinks in front of them. 

Ladybug raised her martini glass to Chat, “to your ongoing education,” she grinned. 

“To my lovely teacher,” Chat responded and they clinked glasses. “You seem to be in a celebratory mood this evening,” he said after taking a sip, enjoying the way the liquor burned the back of his throat. 

She leaned her chin in her hand, “oh really, what gave it away?”

“Well, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you this close to being half under,” he said. 

Raising an eyebrow she took another sip, “why Mr. Noir, are you accusing me of being zozzled? How very ungentlemanly of you.” 

Visible panic flooded his face, “I-I wasn’t trying to...I mean...I’m not accusing...I just...I thought that…” he finally gave up and hung his head with a sigh, “I’m sorry.” 

Ladybug raised both eyebrows, “oh no, no, I’m not really offended, I’m just razzing you,” she laid a hand on his arm, “don’t feel bad really, besides you are absolutely right, this is my fourth drink in about three hours.” 

A pleasant warmth spread from where she touched his arm. It was so odd, the effect that every minor look or touch she gave had on him. He didn’t quite know how to handle it, or react to it. All he knew is that he wanted more - in whatever shape or form she was willing to give. 

Chat coughed a little into his fist to hide his slight embarrassment over the mere touch of hand and his inability to realize she’d been joking, “well, still, you’re right, it’s not polite to point out how many drinks a lady has had. But,” he looked at her again, finally able to find some ground in his words, “you just seem very happy and relaxed. And I’m glad you are.” 

That caused her to pause. He was so sincere, genuinely happy that she was happy. Everything on her logical and guarded side screamed for her be wary. Pessimism told her that a man she hardly knew saying such things only meant trouble. But, idealism, something that had been quiet inside of her for many years, had her practically preening under the attention.

Idealism won out and she cast her eyes down for a moment and cleared her throat, “well, you were right.” 

“About what?” 

“Being celebratory, we’re celebrating,” she grinned. 

“And just what are you celebrating?” 

She thought for a moment, “a successful business enterprise…” 

“Mysterious.” 

“And I suppose the end of a not so great week,” she took another sip. 

“What was not so great about it?” 

“Well, I was pretty stressed that the business deal wasn’t going to work out and…” she paused and looked at him with an assessing gaze, trying to decide how much to tell, “...and I saw someone who I don’t particularly care for at all. It kind of threw me off balance, you know?” 

Chat frowned, “I’m sorry to hear that, is this someone you see a lot?” 

She shook her head, “oh no, we’ve never crossed paths before but…” she frowned trying to find the words to explain without delving in too deep, “he’s involved with people who I don’t care for in the least.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows, “is he dangerous?” 

Looking down she swirled the toothpick of olives around in her nearly empty drink, “no, I don’t think so, not him at least, but the people he's associated with are...it brought up some really nasty memories. I just don’t want anything to do with anyone involved with that group.” 

“Well, then I would second the decision to avoid him,” he said.

“That’s my plan,” she tucked a curl behind her ear and looked back at him, “and we lead pretty different lives, I think it was just by chance that we crossed paths, really. I don’t plan on ever seeing him again.” She waved a hand with a slight smile, “anyway, enough about all that, like I said, we’re celebrating!” Taking the last sip of her drink she signaled Paint to bring another round. 

“So what about you, how was your week?” She asked. “I noticed you were curiously absent after promising to visit again soon,” once again she surprised herself with her gall, she it took everything she head not to drop her head into her hands. 

_Damn it, gin._

Chat’s eyes widened and the crinkled at the edges with pleasure, “so, you noticed I wasn’t around?” 

She turned away, “well...I ...I just noticed because you were here two nights in a row and you seemed to be enjoying yourself and you said that you would come visit again soon and I just really like having people come back again, you know? It’s good for business so I was just curious and I--” she slammed her lips shut as Chat did the only thing that could stop her pile of word vomit from growing larger. 

He gently picked up her hand and brought it to his lips before looking up at her, “I’m terribly sorry for keeping my Lady waiting.” 

For the millionth time that night she blushed, but this time she blushed so hard the red verged on purple. She looked away quickly, “it’s okay! I mean, you didn’t...you don’t--” She sighed and ran a hand over her face before collecting herself and looking at him, “you obviously have a life outside of this joint.” She tried to give a carefree smile and took a drink of her new martini, though more gin was the last thing she needed if her verbal track record so far had any say. 

He frowned, “unfortunately, you’re right.” 

Eager for the opportunity to change the subject she immediately pounced on the segway, “so, I guess your week wasn’t that great either?” She frowned a bit. 

Scratching the back of his neck he nodded, “I suppose I also saw someone I don’t particularly care for. Except, I can’t really avoid him.” 

“Is he dangerous?” 

Chat looked over her shoulder at the mirror on the wall behind her, “yes,” he looked back at her with a small smile, “but if I keep him happy he’ll leave me alone.” 

He noted the very concerned look on her face, “really, that’s old news. That’s been my life for quite some time,” he shrugged.

Ladybug tilted her head, still looking concerned. She wanted to ask so many more questions and find out as much as she could about this man who was becoming more and more interesting with each time they met, but that would defeat the whole purpose of the masks, of the mystery and secrecy of the Kwami Club. And if she delved into his personal life, it would only be fair to let him delve into her’s and that wasn’t something she was sure she wanted to do. That was something that could turn dangerous. 

Chat continued, “and actually I’m more concerned about this woman I think I offended somehow.” 

And it was true, as much as his head spinning meeting with his grandfather worried him, the woman who had brought back Plagg picked at his conscious even more. There had been such a deep level of hate in her eyes, hate tinged with pain and hurt. All week he’d be wracking his brain to figure out who she was, she felt familiar somehow, but for the life of him he couldn’t place her or remember doing something to her, to anyone, that would cause them to look at him with that level of animosity. He hated how arrogant it made him sound, but the truth was most people had the polar opposite reaction to meeting him, not that he liked the tears of joy and squeals of delight from fans any better. 

Ladybug looked perplexed, “you offended a woman? Did you use one too many bad jokes to woo her?” she grinned. 

“Excuse you, my jokes are not bad, they’re brilliant,” he took a drink from his glass, “and no,” he frowned, “She returned--” he stopped himself before saying ‘my cat.’ 

_Is it attractive for a guy my age to have a cat? Would she think that was weird? Would that be a little much considering I dress as a cat when I come here?_

“--something important to me and I have no clue what I did but she seemed extremely upset with me. It’s been bugging me all week. I want to thank her, but she wants nothing to do with me and I have no idea what I did to offend her so much.” 

“Hrmm…” she considered the problem for a moment, “well, I think maybe you should give her some space for a while, but eventually she might appreciate an apology, even if you don’t know why you’re apologizing for. And if she still gives you the cold shoulder, just respect that, I suppose.” 

Chat nodded and then smiled a little, “yeah, I think I’ll leave well enough alone for now. I’m not even sure I could track her down again, but thank you for the advice.”

She smiled, “of course, anytime.” 

Ladybug took a moment to scan the crowd and keep tabs on the vibe in the room as best she could when she was as buzzed as she was - thank god for her mother’s cooking that was staving off some of the inebriation. Her eyes fell on Bubbles at the piano, Fox was sitting next to him on the bench her arm draped across his shoulder and her lips whispering something in his ear and by the expression on Bubbles’ face, it was probably positively wicked. She noticed a note in the familiar jazz tune was skipped and Bubbles hurried to the end of the song. 

Biting her lip she let out a giggle which didn’t go unnoticed by Chat. 

“What is it?” He asked glancing in the mirror behind her checking to see if something was on his face. 

She shook her head, “those two,” and pointed behind him towards the stage. 

Chat twisted around to see the blatant flirting happening on stage, though Bubbles seemed to have regained most of his composure. He laughed and caught his friend’s eye, giving a wink. Bubbles jerked his chin in Ladybug’s direction and waggled his eyebrows and then looked back at Chat with a wink of his own. Chat rolled his eyes before turning back to Ladybug. She was sitting with her arms crossed and a ‘I-just-caught-you-with-your-hand-in-the-cookie-jar’ look on her face, “what was all that?” 

For the second time that night Chat started to internally panic, “well, I--uh-- I don’t--” 

Her expression softened and she unfolded her arms and leaned forwards, “you haven’t been talking about me to Bubbles have you?” She quirked her eyebrow. 

Chat’s mouth went dry as the tone of her voice dropped to an unmistakably flirtatious tone. 

Ladybug’s brain went into mayday mode as she heard her voice drop into that salacious octave without her express permission. 

_Just roll with it, you’re already there. Just don’t push it any further and you’re golden._ She told herself...as one of her hands slipped onto his knee. 

_Whelp. So much for that._

If Ladybug’s brain was in full mayday, Chat’s brain had already crashed and exploded into a billion pieces, shrapnel flying every which way. 

They were frozen like a tableau. Neither knew who should make the next move. Their minds went blank, her question completely forgotten. Instead, they just stared at each other. Her hand warmed on his knee. His breathing hitched. 

And by some miracle, he rescued them both from their stagnated selves and asked, “would...would you like to dance again?” 

Ladybug stanched her hand away from his knee and tried to smile like a line hadn’t been crossed. Like they hadn’t inadvertently stepped into new territory. 

“Sure!” She answered, a bit pitchy. 

Chat stood and offered not his arm, but his hand. After a slight hesitation, she slipped her hand into his and let him help her off of her chair. His hands were soft and smooth and she tried not to think about how rough and calloused her’s must have felt in comparison. He grinned, gave her hand a squeeze and led her back to the dance floor. 

She had been right. A line had been crossed, but they had crossed it together. For the rest of the night they found little ways to come into contact with each other. Chat held her closer as they danced, and Ladybug held on a little tighter. Chat reached out and fixed her headband when it came loose after a particularly rambunctious song. Ladybug straightened his bowtie when it went askew. Chat placed a hand on the small of her back as they made their way to a booth to join Fox and some others. Ladybug touched his hand, shoulder or arm to get his attention as the talked and laughed with the group. 

It could have been the liquor because as the night went on they definitely had consumed their fair share, but it was more likely that the liquor was only the oil that got the machine going. It smoothed over the squeaks and the jerks between them. It finally just let them work. 

At the end of the night, when all the patrons were gone and the lights of the club were turned full up, when Paint, Cupid, and Watch had gone home for the night and Fox and Bubbles had taken the cash to the office to count, Ladybug and Chat found themselves standing on the stage in the now empty club.

They were supposed to be cleaning.

“Nope! No way, that’s definitely not happening,” Ladybug said, in the drunken way that took all the authority out of one’s voice.

Chat held the broom in one hand, “I’m sweeping this stage and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!” He challenged in an equally inebriated voice.

That declaration caused Ladybug to raise both her eyebrows, “you think so, huh?” 

“I know so,” he said, placing a hand on his chest. 

Ladybug smirked and that was all the warning he received before she rushed towards him making a sloppy grab for the broom handle, but Chat quickly whipped the broom up and away from her holding it above his head. 

“Just let me sweep the stage, I _purr-omise_ I’ll do a good job!” He said through laughter at her failed attempts to jump up and grab the broom. 

“I’m not,” she said, jumping up and swiping for it, “going to let,” another failed grab, “a guest,” she huffed out as she jumped again, “clean!” She landed on her feet and placed her hands on her hips again, glaring up at him. It was no use, he was too tall. “Especially not a guest who uses such terrible puns.” 

He placed his free hand over his heart, “my lady scratches too deep.” 

“I have a feeling you’ll recover quickly. Now, hand over the broom, I won’t make it home till sunrise at this rate!” She stuck out her hand.

But Chat simply lowered the broom and held it behind his back, “if you won’t let a guest clean, then make me an employee for the rest of the night.” 

She huffed, “like I can afford another employee!” 

“You don’t have to pay me,” he said.

She couldn’t help but laugh, “that’s the only thing that would make you an employee!” 

“Okay fine, you don’t have to pay me with money, I would accept other forms of compensation.”

Raising an eyebrow she smirked slightly, “oh, you would?”

He leaned forwards so that they were only inches apart, “I would.” 

Her eyes widened and her mouth popped open slightly, “like...like what?” 

“Like…” Chat, filled with liquid confidence, purposefully glanced down at her lips and then back at her eyes, “...a night of dancing lessons.” He grinned, pulled away from her and held out his hand, “deal?” 

Flabbergasted, flustered and knowing he’d totally played her, she turned away and crossed her arms, “f-fine!” 

Realizing he might have had a bit too much liquid confidence and reminding himself again that they were still practically strangers, Chat opened his mouth to apologize.

But!” Ladybug looked back at him, no offense in her eyes and only a playful smirk on her lips, “I hardly think a bit of cleaning will pay for a night of dancing lessons in full.” 

“Is that so? What else might I do for the lady?” 

“Hrmm…” she mused as she walked towards him tapping her lip, her eyes appraising. When she reached him she placed both hands flat on his chest and smoothed out his lapels. Then she looked at him, forcing all the confidence she could muster into her eyes, “I’m sure you’ll think of something, Kitten.” 

It was his turn to be flabbergasted and flustered. His lips parted for words but none came and he knew he’d just been absolutely slain by her. 

She left her hands on his chest and somehow managed to keep the blush she felt burning her up from the inside from reaching her cheeks. She could feel his heart racing in time with hers and knew that he was on the same line of thought that she was. A dangerous, foolish line. 

They both glanced down at each other’s lips and their eyes met again. 

“I have no idea who you are,” she said quietly. 

“And I have no idea who you are,” his voice was rough. 

“I can’t tell you my name.” 

“And I shouldn’t tell you mine.” 

“We’ve only met twice before.” 

“Practically still complete strangers.”

With each logical reason why they shouldn’t, they grew closer. He dropped the broom behind him and his hands covered hers on his chest, leaning closer and closer until their breath mingled in the small space left between them. 

There was a lengthy pause. A final weighing of the pros and cons. A last ditch attempt at reason and then Ladybug’s hands tightened on his lapels and pulled him towards her. 

“Open the door!!” The muffled shout from behind the door split the moment in two. Chat and Ladybug jolted away from each other and whipped their heads around to look at the entrance of the club. Someone pounded on the door, three heavy bangs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, lots of doors interrupting things in this chapter. >:D
> 
> SO HEY! Thank you so much for reading it seriously makes my DAY that people actually read my writing. I cannot tell you the happiness each comment notification brings me. 
> 
> BUT, I would like to just reiterate a little PSA:
> 
> I am NOT a historian, but I love reading historical fiction; I am NOT musician, but I like to sing in the shower/car; I am NOT a dancer, but I like to pretend I have the moves alone in my apartment. Basically, I like to have fun with things that interest me. I research what I care about getting right and makeup what I don't care about getting right. I'm way, way more concerned about plot lines, characterization, grammar and dialogue. Above all this is fiction and just me having fun, so please don't take facts and figures too seriously and have fun with me!
> 
> If you liked what you read please let me know with a little kudos or even a comment (I'll even just take a row of exclamation points!!) Responses fuel my creative juices to the max, so let me know what you thought!
> 
> Or you can hit me up on my [tumblr.](http://seajaywrite.tumblr.com/) I post there as soon as the chapter is up AND I'm always looking for more friends! :D


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